tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69104971658029978712024-03-18T05:48:01.050-04:00The Hardy Lifeposts from The Hardy LifeChrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13719454135210195093noreply@blogger.comBlogger556125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910497165802997871.post-11794636328043554582023-10-29T14:59:00.003-04:002023-10-29T19:41:02.450-04:00"Come Hither My Friend, Hope"<p>"How are you doing?"</p><p>It's an impossible question to answer if I'm trying to be simultaneously brief <i>and </i>honest. And, candidly, it's difficult to know how how accurate my answer will be; my self-awareness gauge has taken quite a hit and it seems very likely that my calibration is off. But I feel compelled to try. </p><p>I <i>think</i> we are doing something resembling okay these days. It's been more than four months now since our world as we knew it was rocked to its foundations. Every day has been full of ups and downs. <a href="https://www.thehardylife.com/2023/08/the-shadow.html" target="_blank">The Shadow</a> still pops up from time to time, but with decreasing frequency. We still feel Chrissy's absence every day, and I'm sure we'll continue to do so forever, though the textures and tones of that feeling continue to change and evolve. The pace of life has picked up significantly, as it tends to do, and I hope my lack of posting here for the last several weeks has not caused undue worry for those checking for updates. Time, as always, is a precious commodity, and the nature of going from two parents to one means that I'm having to run a constant triage of life's necessary tasks, including self-care.</p><p>In that regard, you may take my recent lack of blog posts to be a very good sign. This outlet was, in the weeks following Chrissy's death, very much an emotional and spiritual pressure-relief valve, one that provided a very necessary place for me to put the feelings that were too intense for me to keep inside. The posts have slowed because I'm doing well enough that I'm no longer an emotional boiler threatening to take out a city block. </p><p>A month or two ago I noticed a shift in my emotional state. For quite a while, I would have told you that I didn't want to feel better yet. And I don't think that was at all unhealthy, for the record. But I also would have told you that I knew I couldn't stay in that state indefinitely. Staying there too long <i>would</i> be unhealthy. And not only unhealthy, but it would do a disservice to myself, to my family, and to the memory of the woman who was a force of forward motion and was my constant partner and inspiration for the past 20 years. I'm not sure exactly when it happened or what triggered it, but at a certain point I noticed that "I don't want to feel better yet" became "I don't feel better yet, but I think I would like to feel just a little bit better now, please and thank you." </p><p>A few weeks ago, a package arrived for me in the mail. I'd made a very small purchase from the website of one of my favorite contemporary artists, <a href="https://www.williamschaff.com/" target="_blank">William Schaff</a> (Side note, I have very recently been corresponding with William to commission a piece of artwork, and his kindness and thoughtfulness are every bit as noteworthy as his artistic talent). Included in this package was a vinyl sticker of one of his works. This image struck me immediately, and has echoed in my brain in the weeks since as a mantra of sorts:</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihG9tUwc6uyL6WUhBAX9aBe2g0kqPYP6Zw1fTeMkmSGOEoBDdnpQGHQ82ZU3isOwl97h4eVKNjN087txCEgyEE91H2-dc6qSIP-dob_VTdxjsFQWMci3UcA-ZDM3DAMRoN1C6zXyNulNwX_WQJCgNtwxgawt6A_drwGpBQQaaO-___6pBq6hAcZBpvexDL/s1784/signal-2023-10-17-23-21-26-030.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="An image of an exhausted-looking boxer, with a banner reading "BEGONE SADNESS, BEGONE WOE, AND COME HITHER MY FRIEND, HOPE"" border="0" data-original-height="1784" data-original-width="1277" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihG9tUwc6uyL6WUhBAX9aBe2g0kqPYP6Zw1fTeMkmSGOEoBDdnpQGHQ82ZU3isOwl97h4eVKNjN087txCEgyEE91H2-dc6qSIP-dob_VTdxjsFQWMci3UcA-ZDM3DAMRoN1C6zXyNulNwX_WQJCgNtwxgawt6A_drwGpBQQaaO-___6pBq6hAcZBpvexDL/w286-h400/signal-2023-10-17-23-21-26-030.jpg" width="286" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I can now say truthfully--and I <i>believe</i> objectively--that not only am I now <i>ready</i> to feel better but in fact I <i>do</i> feel significantly better and more hopeful about the life that's yet to come. To be sure, the life ahead of our family has become something very different and more complex than what I had imagined just a few months ago, with an element of sorrow undeniably present. But where I recently could only see a beacon far in the distance across a gloomy fog, now I can begin to make out the faint trails of some of the possible paths that could lead to that beacon. Where before I only knew that we <i>would</i> arrive there eventually, I now have begun to figure out <i>how</i> we will get there. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I think I'll leave it there for today. I had a completely different post planned when I sat down to write this, but I will get to that soon enough. Look forward to a post detailing a very long list of the joys we have been experiencing in the midst of our grief: joys of travel, laughter, wonder, gratitude, awe, fellowship, and comfort. And know that we continue to appreciate and covet all of the encouragement, prayer, practical help, and love that continues to be poured out on us. This hopeful post would not exist without y'all.</div><p></p>Roberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14206464127873531527noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910497165802997871.post-31226363962763889092023-08-21T00:55:00.003-04:002023-08-21T01:12:59.380-04:00The Shadow<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRArnNGjd7bowhE1Qs8z53tfLQwj5Rrn3146yKvT86T-PHxIfAj8unMBgrip7fpACQfG4xMIi8QKzAP_AJpzAauMDar761c3qCodVvy_xx2GQDfJQljo_hQVq0DbqVapAnVbIbUnto2mPztifmv5JB0i7MN8ZelQatc4USP80kqeJyMSQqL20eFUkAEeXW/s254/shadow.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="245" data-original-width="254" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRArnNGjd7bowhE1Qs8z53tfLQwj5Rrn3146yKvT86T-PHxIfAj8unMBgrip7fpACQfG4xMIi8QKzAP_AJpzAauMDar761c3qCodVvy_xx2GQDfJQljo_hQVq0DbqVapAnVbIbUnto2mPztifmv5JB0i7MN8ZelQatc4USP80kqeJyMSQqL20eFUkAEeXW/s1600/shadow.jpg" width="254" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>Today marks two months since we lost Chrissy. An eternity. <i>An instant.</i></div><div><br /></div><div>There's an old narrative trope familiar to anybody who's seen more than one or two horror movies. At some point there will be a character (or characters) just going about their business, happily doing their thing. Maybe they're humming or whistling a cheerful tune. A teen couple laughing as they sneak off to make out. A little girl picking flowers. Whatever it is, the light-hearted scene will draw on <i>just</i> long enough to give the average viewer a sense of peace. And then, inevitably, there will be a subtle shift in lighting. A dissonant note in the scoring. A shadow moving slightly near the edge of the frame. Something to make you, the viewer, say to yourself: "uh oh." <div><br /></div><div>And that's been my experience of grief so far. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's the night after Chrissy died. I'm in the kitchen. It's been a surprisingly productive day. I've done all the hardest ADHD tasks. I've been to the <i>mall</i>, which I have steadfastly and happily avoided for a decade, because that's where I can quickly get my suit hemmed and taken in. They gave me a claim ticket and a time to pick up the suit, and I've returned at that time with the not-lost claim ticket. I've filled out multiple overdue forms for summer camp. I've helped plan her service. I've hacked into dozens of our shared online accounts to make sure our bills are getting paid. I've sorted through several returns I need to make. I'm proud of myself for what I've been able to accomplish. And there I am in the kitchen, keeping the productivity momentum going. I'm putting up tupperware. (At the edge of the frame there's a little shadow that moves <i>just</i> enough that you're not sure if you actually saw anything.) I have the thought that I'll probably get rid of a lot of our mismatched, seldom used tupperware. (In the background music, a subtle discordant note plays.) I have a thought that I'm going to have to be in charge of cooking the meals now. (The shadow moves again, slowly but less subtly, towards me. No worries, our hero is being so productive, whatever this thing is he can take it down easily.) I get an idea. It's the perfect solution to the meal prep problem. (Our hero sees a door through which he can escape the shadow. It's labeled "family cooking classes." It's a big strong door, and he's got some distance from the shadow. He can easily get to the door in time, get through, and lock it behind him with the shadow on the other side, and he'll be safe and secure.) What a great idea! It'll help practically and I'll be able to involve the kids and teach them useful life skills! I reach for my phone to google local classes. (He reaches out and grabs the knob. He turns it.) I'm so proud of myself. And I know who would absolutely love this idea if she were here... ([click.] The latch disengages, and a writhing horde of shadow monsters bursts through the door from the other side, enveloping him and dragging him to the floor in the fetal positon) THIS IS THE KIND OF SHIT YOU SHOULD BE DOING WITH CHRISSY FOR FUN AS A MOTHERS DAY PRESENT!! NOT OUT OF DESPERATION BECAUSE SHE'S GONE!! ALL THOSE HALF-ASSED BIRTHDAY AND CHRISTMAS PRESENTS YOU GAVE HER WHEN THIS IS THE STUFF YOU SHOULD'VE BEEN DOING TOGETHER ALL ALONG!!</div></div><div><br /></div><div>This scene has played out again and again. Different settings, different jump scares, same Shadow, same grief. </div><div><br /></div><div>The Shadow shows up in different forms. It loves to sneak up on me while I'm mowing the lawn (though I did successfully mow the entire yard today without weeping a single time. Small victories). The Shadow can very often be found in the kitchen, like when I was cleaning out the fridge a few weeks ago and came across some fresh mozzarella that had gone bad. I stood there and sobbed because Chrissy had bought it with the plan of making caprese salad, one of our summertime favorites. Suddenly the moldy cheese became a totem of <i>so many </i>plans we had, now headed for the garbage can. </div><div><br /></div><div>Last week The Shadow showed up in an automatically generated playlist I was streaming while driving. I'd chosen a southern rock playlist, which is great driving music on a hot summer afternoon driving through rural farmland. Until that playlist gets to Jason Isbell's "If We Were Vampires." That led to an uncontrollable sobbing fit that, according to my fitness tracker, was intense enough to get me into the cardio zone for four minutes:<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtPgrpTbA9XEgHZNrH8EpsvIFBa-bDL5zQw7eHNzM01Jt9sB8cJXJPaJBFpJb0lf9IAJF0pH1h_WWp5rHMt37ZjuNLH2rJ7ragm4lUJ2CA8p1Aos7QivhGJKMHe5nf0jhcEIDdAst5EQJoTdEhCVTfpRmocJpfA_Jt-4FxyEIh_dynd2qvaBFovFM1ah1I/s445/Screenshot_20230821-000559.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="433" data-original-width="445" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtPgrpTbA9XEgHZNrH8EpsvIFBa-bDL5zQw7eHNzM01Jt9sB8cJXJPaJBFpJb0lf9IAJF0pH1h_WWp5rHMt37ZjuNLH2rJ7ragm4lUJ2CA8p1Aos7QivhGJKMHe5nf0jhcEIDdAst5EQJoTdEhCVTfpRmocJpfA_Jt-4FxyEIh_dynd2qvaBFovFM1ah1I/s320/Screenshot_20230821-000559.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><div>I know in my head that, over time, sunlight will find its way back into most of our lives, and there will be fewer and fewer hiding places for The Shadow to wait in ambush. But it'll never be completely gone, and we will have to find a way to live with that. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have tried and failed several times to type an uplifting ending for this post. It's not coming to me. I'm sorry to be a bummer. This is hard. It hurts so badly. That's not to say we are surrendering to this Shadow. We <i>do</i> have hope and we <i>are </i>finding moments of joy, and I know it <i>will </i>get better, eventually. But right now, The Shadow is very much a part of our lives. And that will be the way it is, until it isn't. We'll get there. Eventually.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-for-robert-clara-and-eloise-hardy" target="_blank">(tip jar)</a><br /></div>Roberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14206464127873531527noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910497165802997871.post-89303593234798369112023-08-01T10:53:00.003-04:002023-08-01T10:53:56.610-04:00The Girls are Back in Town<p>The past couple of weeks have been very quiet around the Hardy house, because the girls have been away at summer camp. As hard as it was for me to be away from them for two weeks, I knew they would benefit from the experience, and they were champing at the bit to go. While they were gone, I've slogged through a lot of the type of stuff one has to do when in my position. Lots of paperwork, filling out forms, cancelling credit cards, gathering documents, all the kind of stuff my brain enjoys least. But thanks largely to caffeine and the incredible support of family and friends, I have managed not only to get out of bed and brush my teeth every day, but to be something approaching productive. <br /><br />But after two weeks of executive functioning, I was more than ready to see these smiling faces again when we picked them up at camp:</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtL_HrhAbVh32_LDdJiOKbZpg_pD__5wJeNArc01Rx1u8E3xlU5KHMnm4KwQLYc_rPv2BGlMxs6Mj8T30y2bdBEflUBVU3ihG2HJxvwcTujIKcfMPFyMeZOHPoIf9uPbn3U0KB70BxVttixe1YtnDHfZ93sEODNgIXbYbZbVzmiRVvn-O5soFmu_VvSecY/s6000/RNFetchBlobTmp_2z0b34btu14c4l6y7de73r.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtL_HrhAbVh32_LDdJiOKbZpg_pD__5wJeNArc01Rx1u8E3xlU5KHMnm4KwQLYc_rPv2BGlMxs6Mj8T30y2bdBEflUBVU3ihG2HJxvwcTujIKcfMPFyMeZOHPoIf9uPbn3U0KB70BxVttixe1YtnDHfZ93sEODNgIXbYbZbVzmiRVvn-O5soFmu_VvSecY/s320/RNFetchBlobTmp_2z0b34btu14c4l6y7de73r.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEe8mRT0ua51EMDkKBMgFdFNUUYxJ0ij7zgZ7hAzGTmLsxVhbjE9frV3aY174TJ6tVi4DE6PH8XzUg89Uoz5CICqrJt6pGOPAmIXZqFYYGltOKNupnq8b0ravJeCBSPy7Oa4mbIs66MXq7wm_f_jPrNs0SzGcDX6rjsFYjaHNmrWBYri8LdKbZdrtEjQ_q/s6000/RNFetchBlobTmp_hmkuygiiruppa1ypgxn9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEe8mRT0ua51EMDkKBMgFdFNUUYxJ0ij7zgZ7hAzGTmLsxVhbjE9frV3aY174TJ6tVi4DE6PH8XzUg89Uoz5CICqrJt6pGOPAmIXZqFYYGltOKNupnq8b0ravJeCBSPy7Oa4mbIs66MXq7wm_f_jPrNs0SzGcDX6rjsFYjaHNmrWBYri8LdKbZdrtEjQ_q/s320/RNFetchBlobTmp_hmkuygiiruppa1ypgxn9.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />We got them home Friday afternoon and began the process of de-stink-ifying them and all their camp-ly possessions. Other than unpacking, I planned a weekend of rest and resettling. That night we watched a movie:<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjJpXdQ-Uw39_6H_cCU8eqCL6QH86abcq78TNkkm31WCJGuWxyNShc0CgCaR8zCyubd_x4rJFdjsgtRP63N5R95Wk_tJUO-UKJdFB3_Rdwfe7WnAg4fMCpCONgoWgLLe27IsSJPWr1Sbom694BQYigeOBhb9F3iBej25kg-ZzL8UZN-YcUlko9B_uPm4_z/s4624/PXL_20230729_002145362.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3472" data-original-width="4624" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjJpXdQ-Uw39_6H_cCU8eqCL6QH86abcq78TNkkm31WCJGuWxyNShc0CgCaR8zCyubd_x4rJFdjsgtRP63N5R95Wk_tJUO-UKJdFB3_Rdwfe7WnAg4fMCpCONgoWgLLe27IsSJPWr1Sbom694BQYigeOBhb9F3iBej25kg-ZzL8UZN-YcUlko9B_uPm4_z/s320/PXL_20230729_002145362.MP.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Saturday morning we had family snuggles in bed with the puppy and watched cartoons:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB3VgVOhHHlWdUwbhqZCK9K7pHzscaNgVCcH_rCrPX59HbOty2vDJu4T0E6vOTTuczL6orr0Bx_LSYEYsgBmZWiEYdBk0CYPbr5-2W_Di0PtMDiysptloknzNhwsKEBQoIZ2WBY-cr6MY5dUFonbowqulFP21JxvBjAin6Py7ZY6PYLLiuNYcBQnxwCMI6/s4032/PXL_20230801_113724667.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB3VgVOhHHlWdUwbhqZCK9K7pHzscaNgVCcH_rCrPX59HbOty2vDJu4T0E6vOTTuczL6orr0Bx_LSYEYsgBmZWiEYdBk0CYPbr5-2W_Di0PtMDiysptloknzNhwsKEBQoIZ2WBY-cr6MY5dUFonbowqulFP21JxvBjAin6Py7ZY6PYLLiuNYcBQnxwCMI6/s320/PXL_20230801_113724667.MP.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFxx3n-JvSDO_OVWm0hM2sJJz2kpgoY2hWBAjQy0QsezQenJyH7_ezOi6Aoy7wDihsfS4tGN3dYliDqIyLgQVkbi0jF8ddj41ETzibOOokUzZZS2009vnIcadNG7cIMbQvyb1RixsW1cYfWQTn76iddZliKunQaWJVb29jwxLEZ_4-nCBfeJFhoVNrUP_S/s4032/PXL_20230801_115610719.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFxx3n-JvSDO_OVWm0hM2sJJz2kpgoY2hWBAjQy0QsezQenJyH7_ezOi6Aoy7wDihsfS4tGN3dYliDqIyLgQVkbi0jF8ddj41ETzibOOokUzZZS2009vnIcadNG7cIMbQvyb1RixsW1cYfWQTn76iddZliKunQaWJVb29jwxLEZ_4-nCBfeJFhoVNrUP_S/s320/PXL_20230801_115610719.MP.jpg" width="240" /></a></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6olNFN6qSA4JBx4_9UYLk41wWTdS2Fm--qEH9_zpKCFhcLA45EooV5OzsGvli5-u_BW19AKNTA4ozutR6926A_ABtN-1fJtiedzLyvtQBWEBeDGFhvs2PnKDfYFzRdihDTCmrvHkZC4PIYEZB0vD4pwX-ewLftHow7yBp4fLQ0-Ey8TQpXlsfX_Qwo12N/s2697/PXL_20230729_113836492.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2697" data-original-width="1981" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6olNFN6qSA4JBx4_9UYLk41wWTdS2Fm--qEH9_zpKCFhcLA45EooV5OzsGvli5-u_BW19AKNTA4ozutR6926A_ABtN-1fJtiedzLyvtQBWEBeDGFhvs2PnKDfYFzRdihDTCmrvHkZC4PIYEZB0vD4pwX-ewLftHow7yBp4fLQ0-Ey8TQpXlsfX_Qwo12N/s320/PXL_20230729_113836492.MP.jpg" width="235" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then we had wacky waffles:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5o3Hho7RTu2AYwRMO6LtuoB_yjkRQLyZqv7LcaFWryCtrPkjtI1jaPqMkbMZcZoO4xL2iNXdpA68nxu_EhYl8NYl1iIO0LCRda2YFwSqMCqHJrOajhgEJ8IsQrIpsaWk_MdCaq0emkYiCzT_f266Cg5brEtguNHjT0ELtm12eeB15cbH3U6vCVSWJqxe2/s4624/PXL_20230729_123705098.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="3472" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5o3Hho7RTu2AYwRMO6LtuoB_yjkRQLyZqv7LcaFWryCtrPkjtI1jaPqMkbMZcZoO4xL2iNXdpA68nxu_EhYl8NYl1iIO0LCRda2YFwSqMCqHJrOajhgEJ8IsQrIpsaWk_MdCaq0emkYiCzT_f266Cg5brEtguNHjT0ELtm12eeB15cbH3U6vCVSWJqxe2/s320/PXL_20230729_123705098.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWqkG_NUy0dhGgX_0up7wuJPgwtiJboEc1Leo_yuR49KIjA0eBOOSS03gfVSMktAcJ21fGIQEsxRW34UO89Hzl7q7H-3Qb6eQ_EUwtxNdqm2iFZt3AMZ1tdNEtFpbVNdjXyfb3XM2TrW6npbZN8HnvGsHMurdqvXinkcTqiF1MHlixea99yZ2_NVG-qi4A/s4624/PXL_20230729_123716692.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="3472" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWqkG_NUy0dhGgX_0up7wuJPgwtiJboEc1Leo_yuR49KIjA0eBOOSS03gfVSMktAcJ21fGIQEsxRW34UO89Hzl7q7H-3Qb6eQ_EUwtxNdqm2iFZt3AMZ1tdNEtFpbVNdjXyfb3XM2TrW6npbZN8HnvGsHMurdqvXinkcTqiF1MHlixea99yZ2_NVG-qi4A/s320/PXL_20230729_123716692.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzj1qUhBaY-XU17DqAOgmfg19nIaAdIgQY5_aS5PEhDyunsigUKZo7OO7sy234TwxoOte_mmEjv2bMrusHXMoRwLYKMegZ0YRN1uHiZOIQ-cwBpRMXxHtk1ZLpANyVlhuqxEyMhfN89Z8LtDLrUDWhRMXuwMhuZ4PV_flJ9yjXot_goVkO6_7ZLlr7XlKS/s4624/PXL_20230729_123837534.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="3472" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzj1qUhBaY-XU17DqAOgmfg19nIaAdIgQY5_aS5PEhDyunsigUKZo7OO7sy234TwxoOte_mmEjv2bMrusHXMoRwLYKMegZ0YRN1uHiZOIQ-cwBpRMXxHtk1ZLpANyVlhuqxEyMhfN89Z8LtDLrUDWhRMXuwMhuZ4PV_flJ9yjXot_goVkO6_7ZLlr7XlKS/s320/PXL_20230729_123837534.MP.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOVA582txla6VNJouVdN9RyfI5rEx2aFaErAmvGdpI-81EGbdyq91vPNIXdQNPcGppLdYkuDnZ-mGKoPE2xz_s2zKfvR8Iatk4GbMabVB7YSRWe3Z-tc4GWt7pqYLQYTC_YtneQS9T6NrcqT4K0HZeF4yyWoOMWAch8ejr-yJD2aBjSC2lqGPRcwafV_pj/s4624/PXL_20230729_124905059.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="3472" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOVA582txla6VNJouVdN9RyfI5rEx2aFaErAmvGdpI-81EGbdyq91vPNIXdQNPcGppLdYkuDnZ-mGKoPE2xz_s2zKfvR8Iatk4GbMabVB7YSRWe3Z-tc4GWt7pqYLQYTC_YtneQS9T6NrcqT4K0HZeF4yyWoOMWAch8ejr-yJD2aBjSC2lqGPRcwafV_pj/s320/PXL_20230729_124905059.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR2U_3XO3S6v5yEO_RdO74og9rjpbelheoowDZahvQ4NPUgqt2eouXViQWhgwy_SDPbSvxptaW_X4F8wjzD2ManYZL4rY-llq6z0cU24L5sgorWE-HxC9m6uESn4A9lNYHlrw35YYd-4VWPjZFmQDxRpM2269eq5LtZKqHgoBF9RWE0l2KnR52JAHpPVRe/s4624/PXL_20230729_125801301.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="3472" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR2U_3XO3S6v5yEO_RdO74og9rjpbelheoowDZahvQ4NPUgqt2eouXViQWhgwy_SDPbSvxptaW_X4F8wjzD2ManYZL4rY-llq6z0cU24L5sgorWE-HxC9m6uESn4A9lNYHlrw35YYd-4VWPjZFmQDxRpM2269eq5LtZKqHgoBF9RWE0l2KnR52JAHpPVRe/s320/PXL_20230729_125801301.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Fun was had, junk food was consumed. The Nerds waffles were surprisingly not disgusting! Saturday was full of playing, back-to-school shopping, and more unpacking from camp. We even got our gymnastics bar set up:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUeEQ25C6Z_W1H3YYIBafpr8C_z4vn2UEfLWpLXSiTBEm0Vl274P6B2_9yHbpiPcalPowWkUfjHPh8U5sauQOYW1Zgp9dSwEw8UlUnd0sr9QpvZd_poBa6V87lM2Bdch5ZWT_VMbAvOwRnJQxJOmIMP6mRzyTtbimAWjy1gl8ZJ8eIbmrr3-xIJfx0asxZ/s4624/PXL_20230801_135901589.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="3472" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUeEQ25C6Z_W1H3YYIBafpr8C_z4vn2UEfLWpLXSiTBEm0Vl274P6B2_9yHbpiPcalPowWkUfjHPh8U5sauQOYW1Zgp9dSwEw8UlUnd0sr9QpvZd_poBa6V87lM2Bdch5ZWT_VMbAvOwRnJQxJOmIMP6mRzyTtbimAWjy1gl8ZJ8eIbmrr3-xIJfx0asxZ/s320/PXL_20230801_135901589.MP.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKphcJ6TUEXUVMrkfKmaCGVsBI8XDadF7ddvUQnfkyuTXSPidsEpaZUpFzqYqwXJSqlFv9jSC7iO7bVqpXD6g-mSLlJPS7GLJefLGBSnNBCUC4YMb6W5XCCtvp3EHtbahqT1BJLb3CdPegjHwuXvs4H7b9nq5X7MpU0ZmZEXjakn1JpWFV6do3ifJS6zYw/s4624/PXL_20230801_135904928.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="3472" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKphcJ6TUEXUVMrkfKmaCGVsBI8XDadF7ddvUQnfkyuTXSPidsEpaZUpFzqYqwXJSqlFv9jSC7iO7bVqpXD6g-mSLlJPS7GLJefLGBSnNBCUC4YMb6W5XCCtvp3EHtbahqT1BJLb3CdPegjHwuXvs4H7b9nq5X7MpU0ZmZEXjakn1JpWFV6do3ifJS6zYw/s320/PXL_20230801_135904928.MP.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Sunday morning we enjoyed going back to church as a family, and then we spent the afternoon/evening having some great quality time at the pool:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilMUSz9dIkQ2-ZVtPUUKqajDehlV50IN3hixPb-WokGSE1uMUUc3pp7r6qsKIPQm9AFrafNErj8d3SO7PXQbjGIcv23lRqLZJXdsLBEGhwZAzztXb78xJm_WQKx_K5R_stGlo-5E_QFLgXu4wCXscjhCfYmcbJMUWWz_gIWWa1gXN7NlFqfVFARolvP5-b/s4032/PXL_20230730_222950305.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilMUSz9dIkQ2-ZVtPUUKqajDehlV50IN3hixPb-WokGSE1uMUUc3pp7r6qsKIPQm9AFrafNErj8d3SO7PXQbjGIcv23lRqLZJXdsLBEGhwZAzztXb78xJm_WQKx_K5R_stGlo-5E_QFLgXu4wCXscjhCfYmcbJMUWWz_gIWWa1gXN7NlFqfVFARolvP5-b/s320/PXL_20230730_222950305.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I can't express how good it has been to have the girls back after two weeks of plodding through the quiet. These kids are loud and messy and strong and loving and hilarious and wise and so very, very good. Having them back with me has been pure joy, even as we are still feeling the oppressive burden of grief. When we get to the other side of this (and we will), these two will have been the ones who pulled me through it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-for-robert-clara-and-eloise-hardy">(tip jar)</a><br /></div>Roberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14206464127873531527noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910497165802997871.post-71002732010953961842023-07-13T19:07:00.007-04:002023-10-26T10:33:44.348-04:00Becoming Something Different<p>It's a Fall day in rural Georgia. It's the late forties/early fifties. There's a small thump as an acorn plops to the ground in a shallow, damp depression in an otherwise flat field. It's nearly round and small, about a half-inch across. This acorn surely doesn't know this, but it already has a name: <i>Quercus nigra, </i>the water oak. And that's just what it is. A water oak acorn. And it sits on the ground, just being a water oak acorn. </p><p>At some point, water is added to the acorn. Spring heat, too. Something happens. A tiny taproot slowly emerges from the acorn's shell and stretches downward. The root pushes its way into the soil, and soon a tiny, tender stem and leaflets emerge and begin a slow, unfurling stretch towards the sun. All of the parts of the acorn are still there, and for sure it's still itself: <i>Quercus nigra</i>. But even so, it is becoming something different. </p><p>Now we call it a seedling. And it has much added to it: water, nutrients, carbon, solar radiation. And it becomes something different still. It becomes more of itself. It adds branches. It adds height. It is still fully itself. And also it is becoming something different. </p><p>It's now the mid-nineties. A house is built in the back of the pasture, overlooking what is now a mature water oak, towering over the pasture, its round, wide crown demanding to be the focal point of anyone looking out from the house, or anyone looking towards the house from the road. It's probably 75 feet tall, and in the summertime it often hosts dozens of cows under its canopy, providing them relief from the sweltering Georgia sun. There's a boy who moves into the house. He's on the cusp of puberty, and spends a lot of time wandering outside. The boy sometimes pokes around at the tree's bark with a poorly-maintained pocketknife. This tree still very much contains everything that was once that small acorn. It's still very much itself, and yet it has become something profoundly different.</p><p>It's a Fall day in 2003. The goofy, distractible, wandering kid steers his pickup truck off the road and into the gravel driveway. He's still himself, but he has become something different. He's still goofy and distractible, but he has grown and matured. He still carries a pocketknife, but it's better maintained now, and mercifully he no longer carves in living trees. And on this day, there is something very different indeed about him. For the first time on this day, this goofy young man has a particular young woman with him. As they drive along the driveway at the edge of the pasture, she takes in the beauty of the water oak's late summer foliage. And who could blame her? The young man drives slowly as the gravel crunches under them. He keeps stealing glances at the young woman, gauging her reaction to seeing the landscape of his coming-of-age. She is pleased by it. He smiles. They are each themselves. But they are together, and even though they don't know it yet, they are in the process of becoming something different. </p><p>It's a few years later. Spring. A different car pulls into the driveway, but it carries the very same young man and woman. They are still themselves. But different. It's the same ingredients as before, except they've each had the addition of a band of precious metal. Some alchemy has occurred. They're each themselves, but they're also <i>them </i>too. It's something beautifully different. The young woman takes hundreds of photos. She takes one of the water oak. It's this picture: </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh46VrQSf0VO_16xIimi9zB7Puj0zS2jMcaP6qhpw81nQiEFifD2hHcAISXr1dJc2nnHh9jOOfs6oQJB6V5L682JwqmrTjh_TajnDcD3sm-hEKwgoSvoSdjqjOp7bLigM9ciJCNgix_gzykAWldYkOLjCXKqKmlRDTLNX-qdo6wluw67W86vZd0Xh2Pyxrd/s2272/BigOak2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="A towering water oak in the middle of a flat pasture. Its branches are still bare this early in Spring." border="0" data-original-height="2272" data-original-width="1704" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh46VrQSf0VO_16xIimi9zB7Puj0zS2jMcaP6qhpw81nQiEFifD2hHcAISXr1dJc2nnHh9jOOfs6oQJB6V5L682JwqmrTjh_TajnDcD3sm-hEKwgoSvoSdjqjOp7bLigM9ciJCNgix_gzykAWldYkOLjCXKqKmlRDTLNX-qdo6wluw67W86vZd0Xh2Pyxrd/w300-h400/BigOak2.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><p></p><p>It's a few years later. Another different car. Same <i>them</i>. But no, not the same. They have a new person in the car. This person is made up of ingredients from each of the two young adults, but it is something different. And the <i>them</i> that they are is now something so much more, and so very different.</p><p>It's later that same year. The water oak, still itself, becomes something different. Its xylem and phloem quit xyling and phlowing. The moisture starts to drain and evaporate, and the branches begin to dry out. Its foliage that year is not pretty. It's different, and it's not fun. </p><p>It's the week of Thanksgiving, 2012. The water oak's once majestic, shade-giving branches are now heavy, brittle, and dangerous. The oak needs to be cut down. The pocketknife kid, of course, ends up being the one who has to go all "Old Yeller" on the focal point of his childhood: </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwyaOOOUXt7TjDWr3a9iXCfQg7PaW1Z66QN49hdHAIZ7LfMbzbP-uXdLgnnRRrTFH3uyqDE_LuusNC13H6iPA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><p></p><p>The tree, that was and still is the same acorn from before, is now something different. It's a log. And so it remains for a brief while, but before long the young man's parents hire a friend with a sawmill to come. Sharpened steel teeth and powerful machinery produce long, rough-cut boards. The wood is transported to the young man's home in another state. It is stickered and stacked in the basement, where it can dry, and stabilize, and spend some time just being exactly what it is: a stack of long, organized fibers of a water oak, <i>Quercus nigra</i><u>,</u> that sprung forth from a small round acorn. And there it stays, for more than ten years, just being what it is. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5oMJK-1ot_OGUCi1bf9ViYZdc6F-QM3piS1e9qnCo06P6ACfLd1nmYu_bg2td3_7RgN1IX2WglJuXaSVaZ2YpotO8TSVymXiEC_4O1Y0pyPgbWp02_oYz9VmPZAQXPvx87Uellu7NIQJ46FBJtF5XkGnesGZE-xuW4Hx-N4gcdd0ljlC8skfCX0LCWGBZ/s4624/PXL_20230712_202541229.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="3472" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5oMJK-1ot_OGUCi1bf9ViYZdc6F-QM3piS1e9qnCo06P6ACfLd1nmYu_bg2td3_7RgN1IX2WglJuXaSVaZ2YpotO8TSVymXiEC_4O1Y0pyPgbWp02_oYz9VmPZAQXPvx87Uellu7NIQJ46FBJtF5XkGnesGZE-xuW4Hx-N4gcdd0ljlC8skfCX0LCWGBZ/s320/PXL_20230712_202541229.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p>It is 2023. June 21st. The summer solstice; the longest day of the year. The water oak is in the basement, existing. The young man enters the basement workshop, suddenly looking markedly older. He looks through the stack of <i>Quercus nigra</i> and picks a couple of choice boards out, then uses a handsaw to cut a couple of clear sections out. He sets these pieces carefully on his workbench, and then leaves. A few days later, he returns. He packs those sections up along with a grab bag of woodworking tools, carries them up the basement steps, and places them in the back of his car. They're on their way to becoming something different.</p><p>These select sections of that oak travel back to Georgia, back to the gravel driveway, to a workshop about 75 yards from where the acorn fell all those decades ago. There, over the course of a week, they are once more transformed. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn-dn2b5ACZo6Yh1eRUA2yWY9UaDtbMr0oG3lCo9udFtco5S8ak6dYwwmxjZvah7HByyHQqCgKr-ef2KvDHPnoLsH9lqEFDjXxSsqhwfhoFEgmv2UHiaOW7fKmwCDKIqHMwBlZBFTQArK_637iX3r8s5ZSvOwHbnQdzMccb3uZ0CSt9jqD05cA3hHYF1F4/s1920/PXL_20230629_163032585_exported_70133.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn-dn2b5ACZo6Yh1eRUA2yWY9UaDtbMr0oG3lCo9udFtco5S8ak6dYwwmxjZvah7HByyHQqCgKr-ef2KvDHPnoLsH9lqEFDjXxSsqhwfhoFEgmv2UHiaOW7fKmwCDKIqHMwBlZBFTQArK_637iX3r8s5ZSvOwHbnQdzMccb3uZ0CSt9jqD05cA3hHYF1F4/s320/PXL_20230629_163032585_exported_70133.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><br /><p>The young man once again puts blade to the oak. No pocketknife this time; now it's with well-honed tools and something that, if you kinda squint, resembles skill. It is slow going. The oak fibers are severed, across the grain and with it, over and over, pass after pass, hour after hour. Eventually, what remains is flat and smooth. Four flat boards are produced. Two long, and two short. This collection of the fiber of this <i>Quercus nigra</i> is packed back up along with the tools, placed back in the car, and once more taken away from the pasture where it began to be what it is.</p><p>A few days later and it's back to the basement workshop in North Carolina. More sections of rough-sawn planks are selected and transformed. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUvUkdSxGZYhj3YRfkZ5_i-P-5c0vVJPvCql6_64n34A5hVTG4nBeoKE4zEUDLIjDS-nUk3_TvpC7yvyNn7OptL2Emempir9VgvtvlI5S4229JHhqZLmdJ3Q8oRMbGAghqi2kO5DQppbXSSSebn3kCBWCIfyasJfwPoAkdYB6wG3oCY1OiurumcALAtKVN/s1905/Screenshot_20230713-133217.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1905" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUvUkdSxGZYhj3YRfkZ5_i-P-5c0vVJPvCql6_64n34A5hVTG4nBeoKE4zEUDLIjDS-nUk3_TvpC7yvyNn7OptL2Emempir9VgvtvlI5S4229JHhqZLmdJ3Q8oRMbGAghqi2kO5DQppbXSSSebn3kCBWCIfyasJfwPoAkdYB6wG3oCY1OiurumcALAtKVN/s320/Screenshot_20230713-133217.png" width="181" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin-E3Pb6BcKgSYQerFXmhuKxheJQL6zgwv5O5i0izknmUBLWKNj-ecdk52Sc_1-_z-CO_6L6_7FoHp3BF4cMx2y3uHs1KHcrCo3l1CDoBYHr3oBLm5IorSk9OdPPSInh8w_AbFzeZnOZeYCP5BSJV9-4p3zkuYgRPb-r6B8D8JNn7ye4qL6tsQlz7H1c2C/s1649/Screenshot_20230713-140005.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1649" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin-E3Pb6BcKgSYQerFXmhuKxheJQL6zgwv5O5i0izknmUBLWKNj-ecdk52Sc_1-_z-CO_6L6_7FoHp3BF4cMx2y3uHs1KHcrCo3l1CDoBYHr3oBLm5IorSk9OdPPSInh8w_AbFzeZnOZeYCP5BSJV9-4p3zkuYgRPb-r6B8D8JNn7ye4qL6tsQlz7H1c2C/s320/Screenshot_20230713-140005.png" width="210" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/JpzytqOfYS8" width="320" youtube-src-id="JpzytqOfYS8"></iframe></div><br /><div>The flat pieces of oak, that were all once part of one piece, have dovetails cut into them so that they can once again be one piece, but in a different way than they were before.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPZ0Th_ECy8OU0LTEDBskujwWv8aEnePu8aJoLC5nOHHQj0HQrVZZydX8YwNjAc6Jgall1gtlEC4pKjk8y4kHudFoTHILvvSDKaYbA5NCF1tovj0FcVlZErxz8BBf78Fu3LlVLhrfqKQXS9C13pGiSyWcCoVEoTYtaqWw5-G8dUJLqhjgvScobioeEqi57/s4032/20230708_033030.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPZ0Th_ECy8OU0LTEDBskujwWv8aEnePu8aJoLC5nOHHQj0HQrVZZydX8YwNjAc6Jgall1gtlEC4pKjk8y4kHudFoTHILvvSDKaYbA5NCF1tovj0FcVlZErxz8BBf78Fu3LlVLhrfqKQXS9C13pGiSyWcCoVEoTYtaqWw5-G8dUJLqhjgvScobioeEqi57/s320/20230708_033030.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbtjeB5ZFKfDEVsYa-r8MoaytkY5LZzWAfQlXI8dw8SQYkoDG6RnG_v-hxYdGRVDx67dFAjInPLA7NuEQMS5TotYx0n60P1hWSblq4kDA1blcDW4eNoCLg2rK_Hys3BQwQ3vbxXdhMI5W74Qog9idMA481FW8lAEsmFco4SK2BDpdbsrdxBOyFlYYsanSw/s4032/20230708_025514.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbtjeB5ZFKfDEVsYa-r8MoaytkY5LZzWAfQlXI8dw8SQYkoDG6RnG_v-hxYdGRVDx67dFAjInPLA7NuEQMS5TotYx0n60P1hWSblq4kDA1blcDW4eNoCLg2rK_Hys3BQwQ3vbxXdhMI5W74Qog9idMA481FW8lAEsmFco4SK2BDpdbsrdxBOyFlYYsanSw/s320/20230708_025514.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div>A thick piece of oak has grooves cut from its flat face.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0QlGB6r20gh7FTjgsBIaQFGeZ87NkhD_3J6O73OhAT-TvZt4kvwJtDLmqKLKPzfHpU1i18w64M3p2m0mpepZhda1Wx_qYRi1bzY8BR594k49STowU0o1Zo7EtKxbs_3z5Fq7_rANVOLm4-8xFgUAZAUZcnte1sj6fy4VUigHZ6Ff1zqqjS3tAaIJ1hJoz/s4032/20230708_005221.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0QlGB6r20gh7FTjgsBIaQFGeZ87NkhD_3J6O73OhAT-TvZt4kvwJtDLmqKLKPzfHpU1i18w64M3p2m0mpepZhda1Wx_qYRi1bzY8BR594k49STowU0o1Zo7EtKxbs_3z5Fq7_rANVOLm4-8xFgUAZAUZcnte1sj6fy4VUigHZ6Ff1zqqjS3tAaIJ1hJoz/s320/20230708_005221.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXlxJmsyb2yV7wlv7PNhBGWR9BWWsxSOAF92PXSBt3oiH_OqTSbwaAqd0MWRCjSj8u6J6A4e8xnEw_YugqKGa7_LJCH-Wo614qDt-Vo4dF64a93DdQk5nPPs7RLfHTnlgndRE0FuoYirUrEftRAt4UqjdclNevjPqGQyPxVcSXv-l0LsSF3SmX9qOMXkVe/s4032/20230708_005224.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXlxJmsyb2yV7wlv7PNhBGWR9BWWsxSOAF92PXSBt3oiH_OqTSbwaAqd0MWRCjSj8u6J6A4e8xnEw_YugqKGa7_LJCH-Wo614qDt-Vo4dF64a93DdQk5nPPs7RLfHTnlgndRE0FuoYirUrEftRAt4UqjdclNevjPqGQyPxVcSXv-l0LsSF3SmX9qOMXkVe/s320/20230708_005224.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div>It's late Friday night. The man works late. Into Saturday. He makes a half-second mistake that he realizes will take him hours to fix. He swears. He considers going to bed. No. He has a deadline. He works through the night and into the morning. By late morning this oak has become a box. It has dovetailed sides and a beveled top. But then it becomes something more. The man and his immediate family add some private, personal touches. Finally, a small bag containing something simultaneously very ordinary and very special is placed inside, and the joints are glued and clamped for the night. The inside of the box has become something beautifully and meaningfully different.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's Sunday, around noon. The oak box is released from its clamps. The glue squeeze-out is carefully removed with a sharp chisel. The surface of the oak is given a thorough rub down with a natural, fragrant wax mixture.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmT_MdLFSkT3n5bkjjx0ufvnADiFLIr1xA0MSiEHhxTNiNbIYu1OFQPE2BbruvstoAUDatBdQ2fB_6auBMlZYG1_OCfUHtfmQrhUyvGCOhyZaHOBsrErkqUox_64hCSB8atR3nvQFy16sQ-pKvzx44hAiYtAcLW8T60unsq6YjvF0GuWo73s0Ju4XcO_vD/s1239/PXL_20230709_191648191_exported_941_1688955656854~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="857" data-original-width="1239" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmT_MdLFSkT3n5bkjjx0ufvnADiFLIr1xA0MSiEHhxTNiNbIYu1OFQPE2BbruvstoAUDatBdQ2fB_6auBMlZYG1_OCfUHtfmQrhUyvGCOhyZaHOBsrErkqUox_64hCSB8atR3nvQFy16sQ-pKvzx44hAiYtAcLW8T60unsq6YjvF0GuWo73s0Ju4XcO_vD/s320/PXL_20230709_191648191_exported_941_1688955656854~2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The man loads it up in his car once more. When they reach their destination, he pulls the oak box out and carries it to a patch of green grass in the sunshine. The family that sits in front of it is the same family it has always been. But it has become something different. The loving, life-filled, curly-haired mother is not physically present. But she is. Her fibers are woven throughout the family, inextricably a part of everything they were before. Everything they are now. Everything they will be. She is a part of all of it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Even as it becomes something different.</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-for-robert-clara-and-eloise-hardy">(tip jar)</a><br /></div>Roberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14206464127873531527noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910497165802997871.post-65280983635512499912023-07-07T14:44:00.001-04:002023-07-07T14:44:16.620-04:00A Simple Gratitude <p>Of the many, many things I am thankful for, the one on my mind right now is that this summer meal exists:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjDVaK4dnBt0yOdA9yokbTGeZGXYYealOQExPFTd3ybT7XsA-iM3mhN_TLVQeFj8sHmV3B2CFiLy5erHpoW9YG2NlQ3KsEnnG1suQ9k8_1mcek-rlakSR9VDeDegfkow7RygqbrBdzn0uuRNKBlronI6OjdksflTJI1ul4zAE5KORAWYGXMH7woFLjOUhL/s4624/PXL_20230707_184038666.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="3472" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjDVaK4dnBt0yOdA9yokbTGeZGXYYealOQExPFTd3ybT7XsA-iM3mhN_TLVQeFj8sHmV3B2CFiLy5erHpoW9YG2NlQ3KsEnnG1suQ9k8_1mcek-rlakSR9VDeDegfkow7RygqbrBdzn0uuRNKBlronI6OjdksflTJI1ul4zAE5KORAWYGXMH7woFLjOUhL/s320/PXL_20230707_184038666.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p>Thanks be to God.</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-for-robert-clara-and-eloise-hardy" target="_blank">(tip jar)</a><br /></p>Roberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14206464127873531527noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910497165802997871.post-13818881810246219562023-07-04T15:12:00.002-04:002023-07-04T23:29:54.854-04:00Damn, She Was Good.<div>I have a favorite coffee mug. This mug came into my life one summer when I was working at camp. This is the same camp where, a year or two later, I would meet and fall in love with Chrissy. My camp staff friends and I would always pop by the thrift store on our days off, and one glorious day, I spotted this mug and knew I had to have it:</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE-wM9BbE84vA-lfr8f4vj1LPhHjsS-llUyKZ0b4nyVh7-dMhz2q3Pl6ob7USvHrHDckeCcDk3re_1FOVuAzFgAyqJ2WmsVF64yPcc9hyGb-ablj-Yvzm59TGmDMP0dsQPm-y9MPCfrNm22T80WRV4s7-z1jerpLp3_rJcnr2Hg2gVW0fD-EWO8fooz4_4/s885/dig.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="665" data-original-width="885" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE-wM9BbE84vA-lfr8f4vj1LPhHjsS-llUyKZ0b4nyVh7-dMhz2q3Pl6ob7USvHrHDckeCcDk3re_1FOVuAzFgAyqJ2WmsVF64yPcc9hyGb-ablj-Yvzm59TGmDMP0dsQPm-y9MPCfrNm22T80WRV4s7-z1jerpLp3_rJcnr2Hg2gVW0fD-EWO8fooz4_4/s320/dig.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>It's a great mug. Perfect size, good weight, and the kitschy 1970s blocky "DAMN I'M GOOD" can work either as an uplifting morning affirmation or as charming mock bravado. It's <i>my</i> mug and it sparks joy every time I use it. </div><div><br /></div><div>Chrissy hated it. Or, rather, she pretended to hate it. Or, actually rather, she probably hated it a little bit but also found my relationship with it endearing. For probably over a decade, our Saturday mornings around our house would find me pouring coffee into my mug, catching Chrissy's eye, nodding towards the mug, and then giving her the eyebrows and a wink. She would give an exaggerated eye roll and maybe make some sarcastic comment, but always have a little smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. And so it continued for <i>years</i>, this little flirtatious domestic dance. Until Chrissy up and changed the game. </div><div><br /></div><div>Let me just say this: we are fortunate as a planet that Chrissy Hardy chose to use her powers of planning and execution for Good. Because when she chose to use them for evil, she was just as unstoppable. </div><div><br /></div><div>One Christmas morning, probably seven or eight years ago, Chrissy got me good. We'd finished all of the family Christmas rituals; we'd opened presents, eaten breakfast, and dumped out stockings. I'm sure I was on my third or fourth cup of coffee of the day, most certainly out of my Damn I'm Good mug. Everyone was starting to retreat to admire their new gifts, when Chrissy announced, rather dramatically and with excellent projection, "Oh, wait! It looks like we missed a present!"</div><div><br /></div><div>As heads around the living room and kitchen turned towards her, Chrissy reached behind the couch and pulled out a smallish, exquisitely wrapped box. She started to <i>really </i>lay it on thick: "My GOODNESS, how could we have MISSED this? WHO on earth could it possibly be FOR? Why...It looks like...Why yes! The tag says it's to ME! Well, who could it be FROM? Oh, I think it says...Why yes! It's a gift to me from my loving husband ROBERT!!"</div><div><br /></div><div>I had never seen this box in my life. I certainly hadn't wrapped it. Something was afoot, and I immediately didn't like it. </div><div><br /></div><div>She went through a big, obnoxious show of unwrapping it. "No, I want to keep the paper for later, your Daddy took such care with the giftwrap!" This went on for a while. Finally, at long last, she pulled out the box. She snipped the scotch tape, opened the top flap, and produced... this:</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx0FTB14CmPks8rpPZghmL4JwE7H_NC7wSWthD8ttDmTSHOc7mgtY64QpDWBPi8fUSTj2oMtOFaaze25L6yi7xuIEz0xngzrnEjhuU_YFoR3nw4ozVLQINcoveNBeZHiKrPCDkRNMahGsBBM6mLrqBmzzTPy0BMS01kR90DC7ik_cMb1pqCjnEcKtxmDPh/s885/hib.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="665" data-original-width="885" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx0FTB14CmPks8rpPZghmL4JwE7H_NC7wSWthD8ttDmTSHOc7mgtY64QpDWBPi8fUSTj2oMtOFaaze25L6yi7xuIEz0xngzrnEjhuU_YFoR3nw4ozVLQINcoveNBeZHiKrPCDkRNMahGsBBM6mLrqBmzzTPy0BMS01kR90DC7ik_cMb1pqCjnEcKtxmDPh/s320/hib.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div>The sheer psychological torture she inflicted on me! Not only one-upping my prized possession, but the libelous claim that I myself would have given her this sacrilegious vessel! I spent the rest of Christmas being a little bitter and a <i>lot</i> in awe over how thoroughly she'd mug-shamed me. And she spent the rest of the day with a little evil grin and a twinkle in her eye. And I loved her a little more that night than I thought possible that morning. <br /><br />Her mug was accurate. There was truly nobody better.</div><div><br /></div><div>(this is the first of what I plan to be many periodic stories about Chrissy that I referenced <a href="https://www.thehardylife.com/2023/06/we-want-more.html">in this previous post</a>. I still covet any of your Chrissy stories that you think I may not have heard, photos you think I may not have seen, etc.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-for-robert-clara-and-eloise-hardy">(tip jar)</a><br /></div>Roberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14206464127873531527noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910497165802997871.post-77224084863123891692023-07-01T00:14:00.006-04:002023-07-01T00:16:08.984-04:00A Simple GratitudeOf the many, many things I am thankful for, the one on my mind right now is that cell phone cameras are finally able to get close to capturing a Flatwoods night sky:<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Q0T8vxrUcrODlLqi9vD3GSmlooZEnX1KDgIJiBuPW4vFHx_2mVO_lm46ILXCgaRbUl4PuI58lCVqPoHYXhGqEFT8j9_atKnj_QbtzzO_bXIv1rHZ2E21czI5ZlbAIaSzN98-QUHKhTEL4MFbik96IJa3PJZ0Kq5sGBB3UBn83khDitdvbupl9y0bGdv2/s4624/PXL_20230701_032754673.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3472" data-original-width="4624" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Q0T8vxrUcrODlLqi9vD3GSmlooZEnX1KDgIJiBuPW4vFHx_2mVO_lm46ILXCgaRbUl4PuI58lCVqPoHYXhGqEFT8j9_atKnj_QbtzzO_bXIv1rHZ2E21czI5ZlbAIaSzN98-QUHKhTEL4MFbik96IJa3PJZ0Kq5sGBB3UBn83khDitdvbupl9y0bGdv2/s320/PXL_20230701_032754673.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Thanks be to God.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-for-robert-clara-and-eloise-hardy">(tip jar)</a></div>Roberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14206464127873531527noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910497165802997871.post-22971436153571871922023-06-29T10:49:00.001-04:002023-06-29T11:18:19.443-04:00A Post Just About Woodworking and Definitely Not About Anything Else<p>I have a small woodworking project I'm working on. It's the kind of thing that you can buy for a reasonable price and it'll be perfectly functional and attractive, but I've been very up front with this audience about my stubbornness in doing some things myself. At any rate, this is a good project for me and it will have a lot of sentimental value if I make it instead of buying it. But that project is not what this post is about. </p><p>We're at my parents' house this week, so I had to bring my workshop with me. For my project, I brought two boxes full of all-analog woodworking tools: dovetail saws, crosscut saw, tenon saw, bench chisels, mortise chisels, hand planes, marking gauges, dividers, the works. I figured I would find somewhere to set up a temporary workshop. Turns out my dad was telling their across-the-pasture neighbor that I was going to try to do this in their carport, and the neighbor extended the offer to use his workshop. It was a generous and helpful offer so I accepted. It happens to be extra special because the neighbor's house used to be my maternal grandparents' house, and the workshop is the very workshop where I spent many a childhood hour marveling at Papaw's skills as a woodworker, and where I learned my first lessons in the craft.</p><p>Even better still, this workshop has an actual cabinetry workbench. Now when I say "workbench," I don't just mean a table in the garage you don't mind scratching and banging on. In woodworking, a workbench must be sturdy, flat, level, and most importantly, it must have some method of holding the work firmly in place. There are several different ways of securing your work: bench hooks, holdfasts, crochets, battens, etc. But the most common work-holding apparatus you'll find in workshops worldwide is the vise. This workbench has what's called a "tail vise," which moves in and out at the end of the bench by turning a large threaded rod.<br /></p><p>Let me take a moment here and acknowledge that I'm aware most of the eyes reading this are glazing over. If you're not into this, re-read the title of this post and you'll find that I'm as good as my word. But this stuff really is fascinating for a certain type of mind, and if you're one of the people who isn't bored by halfway-competent prose about old timey trades, you absolutely should read <a href="https://lostartpress.com/collections/workshop-books/products/the-anarchists-workbench">this book</a>. I'm well aware that the woodworking minutiae is me really letting myself lean into the early-forties dad vibe and I've accepted it. Moving on.</p><p>The workbench available to me was most likely purchased as a kit and assembled on site. It's mass produced, but sturdy and flat. It wasn't made to be pretty, and the wood it was made from was cheap and functional finger-jointed stock. They sell similar benches at Harbor Freight and Northern Tool and the like. It's nothing flashy, and there are thousands upon thousands of nearly identical workbenches in garages of weekend wood warriors across the country. But it is sturdy, it is flat, it is level, and it has a mechanism to hold the work securely. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgSkif6pPGiTHlRjLORdAjfKf7EctqpwBtNNWGn9xjV97muvyj-pJ8FfxHd198yFeHzGPS8xEAbt_rktPRHBdXj21SeQbY1JEaGzaSTjXiHOrQNJ9F7lSRYca0U2NUcoZGsjaaOv9_YPR1ukR3xn5N0mQ7z1DCnz68sRoJfXJMMMfvGKHhPNBuxMA8fPdby" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="890" data-original-width="1185" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgSkif6pPGiTHlRjLORdAjfKf7EctqpwBtNNWGn9xjV97muvyj-pJ8FfxHd198yFeHzGPS8xEAbt_rktPRHBdXj21SeQbY1JEaGzaSTjXiHOrQNJ9F7lSRYca0U2NUcoZGsjaaOv9_YPR1ukR3xn5N0mQ7z1DCnz68sRoJfXJMMMfvGKHhPNBuxMA8fPdby" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>I brought some oak stock that I'm using for this project, and it actually was harvested from the big water oak that used to stand about 75 yards to the north of this workshop. That's not really pertinent to the post, but it is pretty neat. So I got some of that oak out and went to clamp the first board in the vise, itching to get my hand planes singing away on it. I turned the handle, tightening up the vise screw, and "CRACK!" </p><p>The benchtop's tail apron (the piece to which the tail vise is anchored) suddenly and catastrophically failed. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg6iopLc4GwydWO6mo63TDBokXbA_jfbE5fYTTlzZkvC26swoR42S-0BXXu3c_7JpYyRwaGERjpOEJDs03-qPBx8eWLUEk5yNisNWIuXl5jVvxV4ypcITjqnKGgItFLfF8xBvhE1L-DcDU_z9rbsgHUPgvlQNgjguMykr5Afs7G3L5WUIOCqr-4VIsJaPqk" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="890" data-original-width="1185" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg6iopLc4GwydWO6mo63TDBokXbA_jfbE5fYTTlzZkvC26swoR42S-0BXXu3c_7JpYyRwaGERjpOEJDs03-qPBx8eWLUEk5yNisNWIuXl5jVvxV4ypcITjqnKGgItFLfF8xBvhE1L-DcDU_z9rbsgHUPgvlQNgjguMykr5Afs7G3L5WUIOCqr-4VIsJaPqk" width="320" /></a></div><br />Nobody would have ever noticed before it broke, but one of the tail vise's anchoring screws just happened to be positioned right in the middle of the lumber's glued finger joints. In retrospect, it makes sense why it broke, but jeez, what are the odds of the screw going right through there. It's frustrating, especially when you've got big plans for getting some good work done on this project. For every one of these benches where the glue joint lines up just so with a screw hole, there are probably 200 where it's not a problem. Oh well, luck of the draw I guess. Though if I were standing in front of the manufacturer I would definitely complain about the quality control.<p></p><p>So there I was with a table. But I need more than a table, I need a workbench. This table was sturdy, flat, and level. But there was nothing there to grab hold of the workpieces. Nothing to keep the work secure and steady. A vise without something to anchor to can only hold one side of the work. Without a way to hold everything firmly and steadily, this was just a table.</p><p>But this project is important, and it's not one I'm willing to outsource. So I assessed my resources, and formed a plan. I did not have the type of wood I would prefer for this fix, so I used a scrap piece of construction lumber. I didn't have the right size drill bits for the threaded rod or the alignment pins, but I had a wide variety of other tools and some resourcefulness. I didn't have enough time to be dealing with this particular problem, but I have a project that needs to get done and I couldn't start working on it until I cobbled together a fix to get to the next step. </p><p>I used the broken piece as my guide, reverse-engineering how it was attached and how it worked to anchor the vise. I measured out the dimensions onto my scrap lumber and got to sawing, drilling, chiseling, squinting, test fitting, etc. And eventually, something functional emerged:</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiejqYjt3BxO7CaUGhjDc7bRUVpAmpFegZKHX6u8wVyq7a3BdhhwQE2gkXxIW36NXou_rqixmMb3RhjbS0P3NNhLlxGL9mcbpO-uQDTDkBQ-1aD37KTHCk5DGFurCXR3tWMJgcl6Mfq1uNpPTuB3rmVZOFidPOz4VQanD8tDUqve06d4ABHZv6wq804SqlZ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="890" data-original-width="668" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiejqYjt3BxO7CaUGhjDc7bRUVpAmpFegZKHX6u8wVyq7a3BdhhwQE2gkXxIW36NXou_rqixmMb3RhjbS0P3NNhLlxGL9mcbpO-uQDTDkBQ-1aD37KTHCk5DGFurCXR3tWMJgcl6Mfq1uNpPTuB3rmVZOFidPOz4VQanD8tDUqve06d4ABHZv6wq804SqlZ" width="180" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>It wasn't (and isn't) pretty. It was an awkward fit because it wasn't the exact same dimensions as the original tail apron. It wasn't even the same species of wood as the rest of the bench. But I reinforced it as well as I knew how. I put decking screws in it everywhere I could possibly fit one. It was time to put a little force on it and see how it held up. If I'm being completely honest, I'm surprised at how well it worked. I still had to do a lot of resetting and fiddling, but eventually I got it to where it seemed to be holding the workpiece pretty well. And I finally got into a rhythm and by golly I made one flat piece of oak by the end of the day. This project is going to get finished.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/lVVLSCvrjss" width="320" youtube-src-id="lVVLSCvrjss"></iframe></div><br /><p>Granted, this was not a high-end fix, and if this bench is to get used heavily in the future, it's likely a more elegant repair will be needed. But it's functional for now, and for the near future I think it's gonna hold.</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-for-robert-clara-and-eloise-hardy">(tip jar)</a></p>Roberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14206464127873531527noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910497165802997871.post-3524691681641714992023-06-27T23:05:00.007-04:002023-06-27T23:05:59.837-04:00We Want More<p>One of the things I've heard often in the past week is that the world didn't get enough Chrissy. Preachin' to the choir, buddy, trust me. <br /></p><p>Well, it just so happens I have come up with a way to do just that. No, it doesn't involve a pet sematary or any other such necromancy. Here's what I mean: I've had numerous times in the past week that I've heard a story about Chrissy that was brand new to me. And each time, it felt like I was getting a little bit more of her. Getting to see her again from a slightly different angle. Getting to <i>know</i> her a little bit more fully. It's been such a gift. A fella could be forgiven for wanting to experience more of that. </p><p>So that's tonight's ask: if you've got a Chrissy story and you think I might not have heard it, please send it to me. That's it. I promise I won't publish any of them without getting your consent first. This is a public blog, so I'm not going to blast out my personal email address to the universe, but if you knew Chrissy, you probably know how to get in touch with me, or you know someone who does. I will probably be sharing a few of my own Chrissy stories; a lot of those are just for us, but I've already thought of a couple that I can share without feeling like I'm betraying any of her confidences. They're adorable; you're gonna love them. And, in a way, we're gonna get a precious little bit more Chrissy.</p><p>Thanks, y'all. </p><p>-R</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-for-robert-clara-and-eloise-hardy"><span style="font-size: x-small;">tip jar</span></a></p>Roberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14206464127873531527noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910497165802997871.post-38768590259754734992023-06-26T22:23:00.003-04:002023-06-26T23:02:50.378-04:00"Do It Yourself" Can Wait<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_3ko58MyN0nBqVCUtwtUYhpq608ADwsdDpsD8EsLXBtyRC4eYtd79tXOX8TcfYdU6uzzPfUrMSPybka7KAdqEWvb5E6ICHMHJyLuuJAXpkTxJx5vOyerG1gqdMxoRbI5z6kJCIGuJy3ofh8lQnxwKKfqtIfhpGHP6hFryqNRdAk-CsZJTBH_s907AbLpz" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1258" data-original-width="1530" height="451" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_3ko58MyN0nBqVCUtwtUYhpq608ADwsdDpsD8EsLXBtyRC4eYtd79tXOX8TcfYdU6uzzPfUrMSPybka7KAdqEWvb5E6ICHMHJyLuuJAXpkTxJx5vOyerG1gqdMxoRbI5z6kJCIGuJy3ofh8lQnxwKKfqtIfhpGHP6hFryqNRdAk-CsZJTBH_s907AbLpz" width="549" /></a></div><br /><br /></div><br /><br /></div><div>It is a humbling experience to be overwhelmed by offers of help. It is more humbling still to realize that you <i>need </i>overwhelming help. I like being self-sufficient, maybe to a fault (Chrissy would absolutely agree with this statement). I'm the guy you see in the parking lot at the home improvement store trying to lift multiple sheets of plywood and absolutely <i>refusing</i> to accept help from the store employee offering it. I always took it as a personal insult if we ended up hiring someone to fix something around the house that I thought I could take care of myself. Sometimes this character trait pays off, and we get a beautifully redone screen porch. But it also means that I have items on my household fix-it list that predate my youngest daughter. </div><div><br /></div><div>All that to say, as hard as it is for me to ask for help or even to accept help freely offered, our family could not have made it to this point without the support of so many of you. The one phrase I have heard probably more than any other in the past month is "If there's <i>anything </i>I can do to help, please let me know." Every single person who has expressed this to me has meant it from the bottom of their heart, and every single one of you has made me feel so loved, encouraged, and supported. <br /><br />Over the past week, it has become clear that the best and most useful way to help, should you feel led to do so, is to navigate to the GoFundMe page that my sister, Liz, set up for us. Setting up a donation page was something I hadn't even considered before Liz asked my blessing to start one, but since donations started rolling in I have realized just how valuable this specific type of help is for our family as we pick up the pieces of our lives.</div><div><br /></div><div>If you feel so led to help, it would mean the world to us. Each donation we've received isn't just money, it's <i>time</i>. Time to spend with my girls to help them through the worst thing that will ever happen to them. Time to sit in peace with them without being preoccupied with our sudden new financial situation. Time to sit with my thoughts and feelings and grief. Time to write, which has been and will continue to be therapeutic as I try to make sense out of a universe that no longer includes Chrissy. </div><div><br /></div><div>Look, this is PEAK make-Robert-feel-uncomfortable stuff right here, because not only is it asking for help, but it's asking for the most generic, un-specialized type of help. My knee-jerk instinct is that, if I'm going to accept help, I should be asking each individual for something special that they are uniquely capable of providing. We have so many people in our lives who have incredible, unique talents and skills; surely each person has something amazing they want to do for us!</div><div><br /></div><div>But folks, I am still learning from Chrissy. As I made the drive last night to my parents' home in Georgia, I thought back on all the times I've watched Chrissy command armies of volunteers. I can't tell you how many times I've witnessed her direct a room full of people with post-graduate degrees to do the most mundane, generic tasks possible. You've got a PHD? Go through these tubs of markers and throw out the ones that have dried out. You run a multi-million dollar business? Put two of each color pipe cleaner in each of these 40 ziplock bags. I've seen her do it a hundred times. And here's what Chrissy's been teaching me through these memories: when people who love you tell you they want to help, they ain't lying. Nobody ever got upset at Chrissy asking them to do mundane, impersonal things. They were happy to do it. They volunteered to do it. Get over yourself, Robert, and take the help people keep asking to give you.<br /><br /></div>Thank you all so much. I can't say it enough: I wish everyone, everywhere was blessed with the Village that we have. And even though letting so many people do so many things for me makes a part of me want to curl up into a tiny ball of infinitely dense mass, there's a bigger part of me that just marvels at the ever-repeating miracle of people caring for us. Thank you.<div><br /></div><div>Here's the link:</div><div><a href="https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-for-robert-clara-and-eloise-hardy">https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-for-robert-clara-and-eloise-hardy</a></div>Roberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14206464127873531527noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910497165802997871.post-38843710265981886272023-06-25T21:55:00.003-04:002023-06-25T21:55:27.839-04:00WWCD<p>"What would Chrissy do?" has become a very useful focusing tool for me. For any number of unfamiliar situations I have found myself in this week, this tool has helped me center myself, halt the spiral, and take perspective. </p><p>It's been helpful when there have been hard choices to make. It's been helpful when I have needed to find a solution to complex logistical problems. And, in between the chaos and slogging through the lists of very-much-not-fun tasks that have to be completed, it's been helpful when there are quiet moments.</p><p>Today has been a day of crossing off lists, hurried packing, and travel. It has been a hell of a week. The adrenaline and cortisol have finally eased the throttle down to only about 75%. I am wounded. I am raw. I am weary. </p><p>WWCD? </p><p>Well, first of all, on a week like this one, she would still write. But it would be a short post. </p><p>She would express gratitude for all the acts of love and grace we experienced this week. </p><p>And she would wander out in the pasture, braving mudholes, chiggers and fire ants, to get a good photo of tonight's incredible sunset.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOJKrkqflZ_YdgF7MIR8LAp13nQ8qHpUgRdEj4G8qGk17RfPaIQzPA5Fpadi2uYKSP0iIFY1M_PuXjy7yLoWeDNihK62TMc_mZeeD-v4Uq_CzIJ9gtetlCMU8w2mhWBCWdiS8QjYSNpDRlSVvPxj6LKSd7vFjs-x9dgWzp-8-_dJseQr3A1f_lGxBFB4-i/s4624/PXL_20230626_004423038.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3472" data-original-width="4624" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOJKrkqflZ_YdgF7MIR8LAp13nQ8qHpUgRdEj4G8qGk17RfPaIQzPA5Fpadi2uYKSP0iIFY1M_PuXjy7yLoWeDNihK62TMc_mZeeD-v4Uq_CzIJ9gtetlCMU8w2mhWBCWdiS8QjYSNpDRlSVvPxj6LKSd7vFjs-x9dgWzp-8-_dJseQr3A1f_lGxBFB4-i/w624-h468/PXL_20230626_004423038.jpg" width="624" /></a></div><br />And then she would close her laptop and enjoy the quiet.<p></p><p>Check, check, check, and check. <br /><br /><br /></p>Roberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14206464127873531527noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910497165802997871.post-68304780587414031122023-06-25T00:00:00.004-04:002023-06-25T00:13:14.446-04:00I'm the Captain Now<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiQodYgqSwC__YNZSRE9kYWoe8vop75GUFqnNYJtIEEAjJuQ9G3t6y-L_R34QNTQP5mQAwu8uYuUefwFgIwtB9rlzIrZm-YYEH9O-796aM6-F0Sc00l6iDfWfDoATq0kLF1X9E6GRTN874DtxWGSCwgE3YhVWCWiA_kWRwfpKdHF3Kv18JFZPwo1ey4-vD3" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2167" data-original-width="2758" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiQodYgqSwC__YNZSRE9kYWoe8vop75GUFqnNYJtIEEAjJuQ9G3t6y-L_R34QNTQP5mQAwu8uYuUefwFgIwtB9rlzIrZm-YYEH9O-796aM6-F0Sc00l6iDfWfDoATq0kLF1X9E6GRTN874DtxWGSCwgE3YhVWCWiA_kWRwfpKdHF3Kv18JFZPwo1ey4-vD3" width="305" /></a></div><br /><br /></div>There's this very small, quirky cruise ship. It's a small scale business, nothing super flashy. It only has 4 crew members: two full-fledged officers, and two bright young cadets. One crew member serves as captain, navigator, events coordinator, and also takes care of about 75% of the galley duties. The first mate is in charge of maintenance, engineering, waste handling, and also runs the ship's comedy club. Both have very weirdly specific job descriptions, but they built these roles around a long-running partnership and somehow it works pretty well. This little venture is modest, but sustainable and even thriving. Again, nothing flashy, nothing grandiose, but the ship is sea-worthy and storm-tested, and it is chugging along, right on course and right on time. The captain is imminently capable, and her record aboard this ship is unblemished and admirable. The first mate is a resourceful and talented problem-solver, and his levity and adaptability have proven invaluable for this crew when navigating rough waters. The two are excellent foils for each other, each serving to complement the other while managing to balance out each other's particular excesses. The partnership is a triumph of luck. Their puzzle pieces fit just right. The little ship chugs along, day after day, month after month, year after year, right on course.<div><br /></div><div>But one day, in the middle of a cloudless day, on calm seas, a rogue wave materializes out of nowhere. Before anyone has time to brace themselves, the wave strikes and the captain-navigator-activities-director-cook is swept from the deck and lost at sea. <div><br /></div><div>Just as quick as that. She's Gone. <div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The rest of the crew pick themselves up off the dripping deck, stunned. The first-mate-engineer-janitor-clown scans the water all around in a frantic attempt to locate the captain. Maybe she's not lost. Maybe she was able to grab a life ring on her way over. Maybe if he looks hard enough he'll see the smoky trail of a flare gun. </div><div><br /></div><div>But there's nothing. This captain, the one he has crewed alongside for all these years to get this beautiful little ship from harbor to harbor, voyage after voyage, is nowhere to be found. The sea has taken her. </div><div><br /></div><div>The first mate assesses the situation. The cadets are both present and accounted for. This is good. He quickly grabs emergency blankets and scoops them up and gets them inside where they can rest against the bulkhead. Alarm klaxons are sounding. The vessel is listing somewhat. This is concerning. The hull could be compromised. The engines are definitely not at full power. He can tell the originally plotted course is no longer possible, not with this damage. This is not good.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's at this moment the realization hits him so hard he almost loses his sea legs for a moment.</div><div><br /></div><div>He's been promoted. </div><div><br /></div><div>He steadies himself against the railing and takes several deep breaths. He somehow manages to avoid vomiting. </div><div><br /></div><div>He takes another deep, deep breath, holds it. He stands, willing his legs to stop quivering. He stands for a moment, thinking. He nods, lets out his breath in a heavy but determined sigh, sets his jaw, and steps into the wheelhouse. </div><div>He goes down the captain's duty list. He's watched the captain steer for years, and even spent some time at the helm a few times (but mostly just when the captain was needed elsewhere onboard and the charted course was well-mapped and clear). It's been years since he worked regularly in a galley, but he's no slouch. He sees the captain's sextant resting on top of the maps. He makes a mental note to write a joke for the ship's comedy night about how funny the word "sextant" is, but has no clue how to use it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Another deep breath. He takes stock of his resources. He has the two cadets. They are inexperienced and scared but ready for duty. They have also been watching the captain. The senior cadet has already run to the galley and started pulling recipes. This is a good sign. He steps back out on the deck and cranes his neck upwards to glimpse the radio antenna, and sees it's untouched. This is good; he can radio nearby ships for help. He checks the distress beacon and confirms it has been activated. Before he can even reach for it, the radio receiver crackles. It's another ship reaching out. They have already picked up the beacon. Then another crackle, another nearby vessel responding to his distress call. Then another. And another. He sees a sail on the horizon. Exhaust from a smokestack on the other. Before long, there is an entire armada approaching. The radio handset is almost unusable, choked with other vessels extending offers of assistance and escort to safe harbor. </div><div><br /></div><div>The two cadets step up on either side of the new captain and each places a hand gently on his back. He nods to each of them, his shipmates. He reaches out and, cautiously at first, places his hand on the wheel. He feels the wooden handle, the shallow grooves worn ever so gently in the shape of the former captains fingers where she gripped and turned this wheel for years and years. His fingers don't line up just perfectly; the grip feels awkward and unpracticed. But the wheel turns fine. He'll get the hang of it. He carefully eases the throttle forward. The ship, with its still-shivering crew, shudders and clangs. But it starts to move. The ship motors forward, with a lot more smoke than he'd like, and leaving behind only the hint of a wake, but forward. The battered crew is short their most capable sailor. There are duties that require skills nobody on board has learned yet. But they are moving forward. The ship is surrounded now by other vessels, with tow ropes in hand if needed, and life rings at the ready.</div><div><br /></div><div>By now the daylight has begun to darken, and the reluctant captain raises his eyes to the horizon. The tiniest imaginable little pin-prick of light appears. Then it disappears. It reappears. It disappears. Reappears again. A beacon. He takes a long, slow deep breath. He lets it out. He smiles a weary smile at his crew. It will be a long, exhausting night, but this battered, listing ship is moving towards the harbor.</div><div><br />They're going to make it.</div></div></div>Roberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14206464127873531527noreply@blogger.com58tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910497165802997871.post-68935416757930286312023-06-21T18:16:00.003-04:002023-06-22T14:33:34.691-04:00Chrissy's Memorial Service<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYpk4_aH4NkfCxetapWWAVoeb_4mo17YG8dykDUj1rN0PncqeUvqz3v-XGw90slI2fcZVIiDapdr7X21ja53QIVubtLyT4ELJThiidmhZQ2Yw5YlCnjj26jxhqxYXkXpGPFWv-yHCPaJgOg2oal9IsXdoCmzcUnNpjHQVbFBs6FLZ69UiDf-7Y1oQV0ccC/s800/Chrissy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="635" data-original-width="800" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYpk4_aH4NkfCxetapWWAVoeb_4mo17YG8dykDUj1rN0PncqeUvqz3v-XGw90slI2fcZVIiDapdr7X21ja53QIVubtLyT4ELJThiidmhZQ2Yw5YlCnjj26jxhqxYXkXpGPFWv-yHCPaJgOg2oal9IsXdoCmzcUnNpjHQVbFBs6FLZ69UiDf-7Y1oQV0ccC/w397-h315/Chrissy.jpg" width="397" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Memorial Service for Chrissy Davis Hardy</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>2:00PM, Friday, June 23rd, 2023</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Knollwood Baptist Church</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>330 Knollwood St</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Winston-Salem, NC 27104</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Reception to follow in the Fellowship Hall</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>The service will also be live-streaming at </b><span style="text-align: left;"><b>https://www.knollwood.org/events/memorial-chrissy-hardy</b></span></div>Roberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14206464127873531527noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910497165802997871.post-89968179431613500342023-06-20T23:12:00.003-04:002023-06-20T23:12:34.040-04:00Well Done, Good and Faithful Servant<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhs76Ugy8q4qlSb6s4XDHBe4aWyeFmpEN-DAPLTExdqMVK17huWffjENek5Pg0h769cootKmYd2Wwcz2fqL3xWbONCFZJkfLgvWNUBuyRYvXJYfaAnyQCwB60OH2rewTADFMKqh1uO1KvRtEzUUABE-BHGhstQnsk4lodcse6P65eWZT9nL7T56U4TEdIb7" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="947" data-original-width="1146" height="382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhs76Ugy8q4qlSb6s4XDHBe4aWyeFmpEN-DAPLTExdqMVK17huWffjENek5Pg0h769cootKmYd2Wwcz2fqL3xWbONCFZJkfLgvWNUBuyRYvXJYfaAnyQCwB60OH2rewTADFMKqh1uO1KvRtEzUUABE-BHGhstQnsk4lodcse6P65eWZT9nL7T56U4TEdIb7=w462-h382" width="462" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>"You were a presence full of light upon this earth</b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>And I am a witness to your life and to it's worth."</b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>--The Mountain Goats, "Matthew 25:21"<i> The Life of the World to Come</i></b></p><p style="text-align: left;"><b><i><br /></i></b></p><p style="text-align: left;">This blog is technically our family's, but everybody knows it's really Chrissy's outlet. I've written a few guest posts when she was too tired or busy to get one out, but I never thought I'd be writing this post, for this reason.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Yesterday was another very crummy morning. Chrissy has always had hard-to-get veins, and an added IV in her right arm ended up having to be pulled, and her arm was swollen from shoulder to hand and very painful. But she was in good spirits for my evening visit, all things considered. I brought her an oreo milkshake, which she ate about half of (which is pretty good for how her appetite had been this week), and we sat together and enjoyed watching the first half of the Wake Forest baseball game. We laughed, talked, and cheered on the Deacs. When her eyes started to get heavy, I came over and kissed her buzzed head and we prayed together: for her arm to feel better, for good rest, and for her to continue to be spared from the nausea and mouth sores that this chemo cocktail often creates. We said our goodnights and I told her I'd see her tomorrow. It was one of the best visits I've had with her since she was admitted 3 weeks ago. </p><p style="text-align: left;">This morning, about 4am, I was awoken by a telephone call from an unknown number. In my sleepy stupor, I didn't get to my phone in time to answer. I remember being vaguely annoyed that maybe some spam call or wrong number was waking me up at this ungodly hour. But when the same number immediately called back, I snapped out of it and realized this was something important. The voice on the other end of the line informed me that Chrissy had paged her nurse to complain of a headache, and then become unresponsive when the nurse came to check her vitals. They could not rouse her, and she was immediately taken to the Cancer Center's ICU to be intubated and to do a CT scan. The urgency in the caller's voice--coupled with the early hour--made clear the seriousness of the situation. I threw on the closest clothes I could reach and tore down I-40 to the hospital.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Chrissy's platelets were being chewed up and spit out, first by her leukemia, and then by chemotherapy as well. Extremely low platelets make for high risk of bleeding; it's the reason why she'd been bruising so easily in the week or two before she was diagnosed. This morning that risk became a reality, and the CT scan revealed she had developed a very serious brain bleed. With her platelets at rock-bottom, it was not an option for neurosurgery to go in and drain that blood; they wouldn't be able to stop bleeding from an incision. The ICU staff tried everything they could to get around this problem by pushing multiple bags of platelets as quickly as they could, but her levels were just too low. </p><p style="text-align: left;">Some things just can't be fixed. This was one of them. </p><p style="text-align: left;">I was informed of the situation when I arrived at the ICU, and the <i>unbelievably </i>caring team escorted me to Chrissy's bedside. She was still unresponsive, but her excellent nurse, Travis, told me it was possible she could still hear me, so I talked her poor ear off over the gentle, rhythmic sound of the ventilator. Soon, Chrissy's mom arrived, followed by her dad shortly thereafter. We all spent time holding her hands, talking to her, crying, and praying over her. When the time came, we left the room briefly for them to extubate her, and then returned to hold her hands, kiss her head, and sit with her for a last few sacred minutes. Chrissy left this world peacefully, surrounded by overwhelming love. And our faith leads us to believe she entered into a Love even more profound. </p><p style="text-align: left;">This world had 42 years of Chrissy. I was fortunate enough to be able to spend 20 of those years head-over-heels in love with her. The avalanche of calls and texts and tributes we've received today is a testament to how much Chrissy packed into those years. And yet they were nowhere near enough. For all who knew and loved her, another 50 years would still be too soon. </p><p style="text-align: left;">What a woman. What a blessing to have witnessed her life. </p><p style="text-align: left;">I love you all of it, Chrissy. With everything I am, for as long as I live, until I see you again.</p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">-R</p>Roberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14206464127873531527noreply@blogger.com58tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910497165802997871.post-86003576730307159562023-06-18T19:30:00.001-04:002023-06-18T19:30:19.143-04:00Happy Father's Day!<p> A few quick updates from the hospital....</p><p>This round of chemo is knocking me down pretty hard. I've had fevers all weekend along with a handful of other chemo side effects including just feeling pretty worn down and tired. I'll have a few good hours and then I'll crash hard. It's unpredictable except that I am noticeably weaker overall. It's all to be expected; we knew this was an aggressive treatment. My platelets remain super low, so lots of bruising and bleeding and petechiae. Basically, I'm sick. But the nurses are great and are doing what they can to manage symptoms. Hopefully this round of fevers will die off soon. But don't be surprised if the blog posts slow down some over the next couple of weeks. Some nights I just may not have the energy for it. Don't panic.... we're staying the course and doing the things and continuing to march towards our goal of remission. Believe it or not, today is already 3/7 of the new regimen. There's one oral pill I take for 14 days, but the bulk of these drugs will be done being administered in just four more days. And in two more days I should get to move to a new room. Keeping the countdowns on.</p><p>My hair was also coming out in big chunks and getting everywhere, so Robert did the 'ole buzz cut for me tonight. On to the next stage of baldness.</p><p>I got to have a nice visit with my mom today during a period when I was feeling pretty good and another visit from Robert, the girls, and my dad tonight (when I was feeling less good). </p><p>I think Robert and the girls had a great Father's Day. He got some special cards from them, and a really cool t-shirt, and they took a 10 mile canoe trip down the Yadkin River. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2WRq53ZWkeGfnbzH-LFE8-2TfbDmhyo3u7lzU4h2ixa8tLG5uNJTi5a3G3nWrxd6KQ5UmkwqmkuDpRj8J_KQl8ffrTUiUDZV-14HFkk7zPro9IVGCqbwO2v3Zl08jq-5I0hjS5ZCo64fiAPaq6fdi36AoYaBiGZ0BO8c1dHkO7TGq6ylrryNUjA/s4624/PXL_20230618_142602199.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3472" data-original-width="4624" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2WRq53ZWkeGfnbzH-LFE8-2TfbDmhyo3u7lzU4h2ixa8tLG5uNJTi5a3G3nWrxd6KQ5UmkwqmkuDpRj8J_KQl8ffrTUiUDZV-14HFkk7zPro9IVGCqbwO2v3Zl08jq-5I0hjS5ZCo64fiAPaq6fdi36AoYaBiGZ0BO8c1dHkO7TGq6ylrryNUjA/w640-h480/PXL_20230618_142602199.MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM7-ON2bfJEqT48XsPOjjOWnJ7HnsdQ_3923-C5aFJICGA5W_-HbxcP29rl3mtGoj1faptA6XXj-mkE_DrNkY_oV6UlH1rjCX9HPP2_CG_lrK1CeKFH50xbyQI1clLKGUdYZGPn9xhcTNTOzOKPLkIJ2sHwUDGDQIwbQuVuS7c4-7wtOKJKh0mYw/s4624/PXL_20230618_142728244.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="3472" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNKyqP0lZboUIU7FscTUN7LHldpSx4ommCVPuf98PPT_Q_0X7c7IHEREijta4wRL6EFCEHqP_b0iT9MgDaKyvZ1ReyJ-H74_WMJxYgEHWh7yP45Gi2tLvsbXX_bq1dZ7bYJJnJI7eE2kkUnkdYAi0C6nUaTWRfN6ty_fydzg6fCDd3O2vYDJMGPg/s320/PXL_20230618_174749627.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>And Happy Father's Day to my own dad who came to visit today, too. I'm grateful for his faithful love and concern for me these last few weeks. I know there's nothing worse than watching your child suffer and I am appreciative of all he's done to try to ease some of the pain.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5_4M4Ju2coZ-_KNYT3K_MaOgEoSNWTyV85xqx5kE-3QGwVbVC3dpFI8HqD0QzJKbJLjZ-7hWfrrmoDSB2TFiPPbCLUlsrP5GTsNcGTFFgk6zL2lObvp32ZvWu34_1cyN2nK53Pj_TEenSRo0JRdPrNYi_7NoYbRnQ0jj2UGvTKGZhbcQCBJbkQA/s4032/PXL_20230618_222924196.PORTRAIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5_4M4Ju2coZ-_KNYT3K_MaOgEoSNWTyV85xqx5kE-3QGwVbVC3dpFI8HqD0QzJKbJLjZ-7hWfrrmoDSB2TFiPPbCLUlsrP5GTsNcGTFFgk6zL2lObvp32ZvWu34_1cyN2nK53Pj_TEenSRo0JRdPrNYi_7NoYbRnQ0jj2UGvTKGZhbcQCBJbkQA/w640-h480/PXL_20230618_222924196.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3MktMG5kV2SA5qyVkihx77N05gscJH9-78ihQsJIjoc8lRKMYws7slTIAvQMDH_c9rPXet4jqB8vATLWTnMTteQkVkt09U1H0hmK5yVFUkMHACVv3KoQFKMJcNUqIZd6Nk7p_yvXJODbrjMqrLyEBussbUxEmyHcqyW3wF3vOGJFh8Bj7_yXe-g/s4032/PXL_20230618_223037609.PORTRAIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3MktMG5kV2SA5qyVkihx77N05gscJH9-78ihQsJIjoc8lRKMYws7slTIAvQMDH_c9rPXet4jqB8vATLWTnMTteQkVkt09U1H0hmK5yVFUkMHACVv3KoQFKMJcNUqIZd6Nk7p_yvXJODbrjMqrLyEBussbUxEmyHcqyW3wF3vOGJFh8Bj7_yXe-g/w480-h640/PXL_20230618_223037609.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p>To all the fathers out there, doing their best to love and show up for your kids in whatever ways you can. You're all Cool Dads. Happy Father's Day.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13719454135210195093noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910497165802997871.post-81513622275637864172023-06-17T22:34:00.001-04:002023-06-17T22:34:56.513-04:00Many Hands Make Light WorkGuest post time! Robert here. Chrissy's worn out from being more productive in a hospital bed than most people are when firing on all cylinders, so you get the understudy tonight. <div><br /></div><div>But first, a brief medical update: Not too much to report today. Chrissy's about 24 hours into her second, more aggressive round of chemo. She had a pretty good morning today, but as of this evening, she's pretty tired. She's been getting woken up every 2 hours for eyedrops, and she's also started running another neutropenia fever. All the stuff we have been told to expect, but still not much fun, and very exhausting for her. </div><div><br /></div><div>Speaking of exhausted, let's get into tonight's post! We have a good Village, and boy do they show up for us. Today we had a dozen or so friends, mostly made up of dear friends from Knollwood Baptist Church, who volunteered their Saturday to come bake in the June sun and help us knock several BIG items off our to-do list. We weeded. We mulched. We pruned. We hauled. we replaced mailbox posts. I found a little worm snake buddy. We weeded and mulched some MORE. I can't believe how many things I was able to check off my list. Just another <i>incredible</i> way we are being loved on and supported by our community. Y'all are so good to us.<br /><br />I meant to get Before pictures, but fate saw fit to make me spend that time trying to chase a groundhog out of our garage. (It's been a weird week). So here's some in-process pics and then some from the end of the day.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYA1hTSCj61BqgKpjXZNaFOrY3wY0C9tjqfe7_zEd3r_yMcOBtwsNvzTStpTmYB9Lsn67gBw0vMd9i5PJ_8TCSk_gOJLBqws762yD1DBA-mtTfHvpjcr1n56Pxu545ByTY-lo8fWbfOzYJX-AnQ6ooYUGLUuwaD_znSyQxI6Y_qJYAKUCfWunZK3HaIA/s4624/PXL_20230617_135440937.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3472" data-original-width="4624" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYA1hTSCj61BqgKpjXZNaFOrY3wY0C9tjqfe7_zEd3r_yMcOBtwsNvzTStpTmYB9Lsn67gBw0vMd9i5PJ_8TCSk_gOJLBqws762yD1DBA-mtTfHvpjcr1n56Pxu545ByTY-lo8fWbfOzYJX-AnQ6ooYUGLUuwaD_znSyQxI6Y_qJYAKUCfWunZK3HaIA/s320/PXL_20230617_135440937.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjar2QGTeAcOSmGvqO9gigScOa04tc1ZpNAiAGkN-onVjhMedlK486aHtiMYapVx_Vva7rcrqj-Oac_kKjRJqA-75mQoSapfX7x4f87TXSvXYTHcB93BPpd4lCfaPLftFwvqowkUhOwddTnWzxpLGPVnZr-sbeytvmHJPGp2Wg_aSUOwkdSZO-ZRbiOmg/s4624/PXL_20230618_005621303.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="3472" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjar2QGTeAcOSmGvqO9gigScOa04tc1ZpNAiAGkN-onVjhMedlK486aHtiMYapVx_Vva7rcrqj-Oac_kKjRJqA-75mQoSapfX7x4f87TXSvXYTHcB93BPpd4lCfaPLftFwvqowkUhOwddTnWzxpLGPVnZr-sbeytvmHJPGp2Wg_aSUOwkdSZO-ZRbiOmg/s320/PXL_20230618_005621303.MP.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>A huge thank you to everyone who helped out, and to everyone who has been offering their encouragement and love. Whenever I start to wonder how we're going to get through this, I always remember that it will be with the love and support of our people. We're truly blessed to have all of y'all.</div>Roberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14206464127873531527noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910497165802997871.post-56310302382869458342023-06-16T19:47:00.002-04:002023-06-16T19:47:34.122-04:00The Goal is Still Cure; And Cure is Still Possible<blockquote style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;" type="cite"><div dir="ltr"><div dir="ltr"><div class="gmail_default" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><span class="im"><p>Okay, folks. The news is NOT GOOD. Let me just start with that spoiler and not sugar coat it. We did not get news we were all hoping and praying for. We're going to do a pivot and keep trying. We are not giving up. <b><i>The goal is still cure and cure is still possible.</i></b> But the news is bad.</p></span><p><b>Information gained from Bone Marrow Biopsy</b></p><span class="im"><p>1. So when they did the bone marrow biopsy they took out a rectangle of bone marrow. They were measuring <u>how many</u> cells were in that rectangle and <u>what type</u> of cells. In a normal healthy person my age, there should be about 60% cells. In a chemo patient who has just completed the 7+3 regimen I did, we were hoping and looking for less than 5% cells. I had 70% cells. Too many. And to boot - of those 70% cells, 90% are leukemia cells. </p></span><p>So here's the takeaway: <b>THIS ROUND OF CHEMO DID NOT WORK</b>. We will never know why; it just didn't work.</p><span class="im"><p>2. We also got the chromosomal/genetic abnormality typing that we were missing. This will mean nothing to most of you, but for the scientists out there reading it's a <i>translocation 6;11</i>. When we think about AML being divided into 3 categories "best outcomes," "intermediate outcomes," "poor outcomes," this one puts me in "poor outcomes." So, it's not what we wanted, but it doesn't change: <b><i>the goal is still cure and cure is still possible. </i></b> </p><p><b>Next Steps</b></p><p>So, we pivot! This round didn't work and we need to get to <b>Goal 1: Remission</b>. So, we're starting a whole new <b>2 week chemo treatment plan</b> TODAY! This is gonna get a little medical-wonky so it's for the nerds out there!</p><p>The new chemo regimen is called FLAG-Ida + Ven. Here's a list of all those drugs:</p><p>FL=fludarabine (IV, once a day on days 2-6)</p><p>A=AraC (also known as cytarabine) - Any A+ students will recognize that this one was in the first regimen. It's the "backbone" of this treatment and doses are way way higher than the first go round. This will be given IV, once a day, days 2-6)</p></span><p>G=Growth Factor for white blood cells (Zarxio) IV, once a day, days 1-7</p><p>Ida=Idarubicin (this is in the same family as daunorubicin from the first go round, but slightly different. We'll hope it works better). Days 4-5 IV</p><span class="im"><p>+Ven= Venetoclax (oral med, once a day, days D1-14)</p><p>If you skimmed all that start reading again because I'm going to talk some English. This is an extremely aggressive treatment plan. It is the MOST aggressive thing out there. We are grateful that I am young and otherwise healthy and I can handle this slurry because it's a LOT. </p></span><p>The potential side effects are similar. We'll work hard to control nausea no matter what. There is likely to still be: fatigue, weakness, low blood counts, loss of appetite, need for lots of blood products, and probably more of these neutropenic fevers (forgot to mention I've been fevering again since last night.....low grade this time. We're running cultures. This is just what's gonna happen). Possible mouth sores. Plus a handful of rare scary ones we aren't going to mention.</p><span class="im"><p>So, we're marking TODAY, JUNE 16 as DAY ONE of Induction Phase Chemo-B. </p><p>We also know from these results that after we get to Goal 1: Remission, we will definitely need a bone marrow transplant. So, <b>Goal 1: Remission, Goal 2: Bone Marrow Transplant</b>. The timeline is squishy of course, but maybe late October, early November for that. The best donors are under 40 so they've already alerted the transplant team and they'll start doing what the need to do to find a match when we get there. <b><i>The goal is still cure and cure is still possible.</i></b></p><p><b>Prognosis</b></p><p>So, I asked for some prognostic statistics about all this info. The genetic/chromosomal abnormality Translocation 6;11 that I mentioned above still has a 40-50% chance of cure (with bone marrow transplant). The Hardys have stared down worse statistics before and come up winning.</p></span><p>And the chemo regimen that I'm starting has been studied at MD Anderson Cancer Center in Texas and in patients who were refractory to the 1st round (meaning the 7+3 didn't work, like with me), they saw 69% of patients get to remission with the FLAG-Ida +Ven.</p><span class="im"><p>So there is some hope on the horizon and we will cling to it. <b><i> The goal is still cure and cure is still possible.</i></b></p><p>I will be here at the Cancer Center for <i>at least</i> four more weeks. It will be two weeks of this chemo and then approximately two weeks of letting my counts recover so I can go home safely. That's mid-July at least and later than I was hoping for, but I will put my big girl pants on. We gotta do whatever we gotta do to get to Goal 1: Remission. In three more days, my COVID protocol will end and I'm hoping that will feel like a game changer. I've been promised a move to a big corner room that the nurses make sound like a Penthouse suite. And I can walk the halls with my pole and go to Recreation therapy and just experience a bit more freedom. </p><p>All we can do is pick ourselves up, pivot and take the next small step towards the goal. I'm grateful to have you all alongside me, cheering me on. It helps me keep a positive attitude even on days when the news is undeniably bad. </p><p>Let's beat this thing. Go for Cure.</p></span></div></div></div></blockquote><p><br /></p><p>P.S. If you're 18-40 and want to be added to the <a href="https://my.bethematch.org/s/join?language=en_US&joinCode=recruitjoin&_gl=1*1cim50x*_ga*MTE0MzE3MzMyMQ..*_ga_6VM6CH82YM*MTY4Njk1NzkwNy4xLjEuMTY4Njk1ODQxOS4wLjAuMA..&_ga=2.48359462.1283103249.1686957907-1143173321#register">Bone Marrow Registry</a> you can click that link. You may not match with me, but you might match with someone else who needs bone marrow, too. </p>Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13719454135210195093noreply@blogger.com47tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910497165802997871.post-60381770238621043942023-06-15T22:00:00.004-04:002023-06-15T22:00:38.455-04:0010 Things I Miss<p> </p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>10 Things I Miss:</b></span></p><p>10. <b>A chunk of bone marrow out of my right hip</b>. I don't actually miss it, but it's gone. Everything went well with procedure today. I was more awake (as in, I was awake) than I anticipated but some long slow breath prayers ("God around me, God within me") got me through with really no pain; just discomfort. And it was pretty quick. We'll get results around 3:30 tomorrow afternoon. Whatever they say (<a href="https://www.thehardylife.com/2023/06/choose-your-own-adventure.html" target="_blank">Choose Your Own Adventure Plan A or Plan B</a>) we just want to do whatever we have to do to get to REMISSION. If that means another month here instead of two weeks, then sign me up. </p><p>9. <b>The outside world.</b> Because I was admitted with COVID (Thanks for catching my leukeumia, COVID!), I've been on a 21 day lockdown. Getting rolled down to CT today for the procedure was the first time I had left these four walls since I was admitted. It was like a field trip! But on June 19, my 21 days will be over and they can move me to a bigger room and also I can start taking my pole for walks around the unit. I'll be able to go to the art and rec classes and just explore a bit further. I am so excited. And your texts and messages with glimpses of what you and your families are doing in the outside world bring me cheer and help me imagine what's beyond the walls, so keep those coming. </p><p>8. <b>Movement.</b> Before the diagnosis I averaged at least 11-12k steps a day and I was doing yoga 3-4 days a week and swinging kettlebells. Now, I don't break 2k steps a day. Last week I had 10k for the WEEK (not the day!). My muscles and joints feel the hours of sitting in bed and I'm stiff and just miss moving my body. I can't wait to be able to start increasing that step count again, bring my yoga mat to a bigger room and start building just a little strength back.</p><p>7. <b>My stuff.</b> Since this was an emergency transport admit straight from the ED, I did not get to pack for this vacation. Every day there's something I think of I wish I had, but the effort to explain to someone in my family where I think it might be so they can find it and ferry it over here is getting old. My room is cozy, I have all I need, but I miss the comforts of home and having all my stuff nearby.</p><p>6.<b> Regular work.</b> Because I've felt pretty good, I've been able to keep working from the hospital. But since I can't really ATTEND any of the events that are scheduled this summer, "work" looks like typing out super detailed sub plans so someone else can do my job for me. And it looks like Zooming into a staff meeting instead of sitting around the table. And it looks like asking people to do stuff for me that I wish I could be doing myself. I'm grateful I can keep working and I'm grateful for amazing team of staff and lay leaders who will carry the baton beautifully. But I miss regular work. And I wish I could be at the things and do the things myself.</p><p>5. <b>My bed.</b> I really love my bed. It's a good mattress. I like my sheets. My pillows fit just right. I sleep good in it. I've brought pillows and blankets and quilts and all kinds of things from home to try to make this bed feel good, but guess what? It's a hospital bed. It's awful. I miss my bed.</p><p>4. <b>Simple showers.</b> Showering is like my big main event of the day. I have to unhook from my IV pole which sometimes requires very strategic planning between blood products or meds as to when I can take a break. Then, I have to wrap my PICC line up in plastic so it doesn't get wet. Then I shower (in a shower that is not my shower and water gets all over the floor because the curtain isn't big enough). And then after the nice hot shower I have to dry off and wipe down my whole body with these antibacterial wipes for infection. So then I'm cold and shivering again. Get dressed. Try to do something with this short hair I don't know how to handle. Get back in bed. The whole thing wears me out and I often need a nap afterwards. I miss simple showers.</p><p>3. <b>My hair</b>. I miss my long hair. I still just can't get used to this haircut and it just doesn't feel like me. And as of today, it's starting to fall out. Just more plentiful single strands and maybe an occasional small chunk, but I can tell it's starting. So pretty soon I'll literally be <i>missing</i> all my hair. Hard stuff.</p><p>2. <b>Enjoying food.</b> Eating (sorta like showering) is a chore. I have to be really intentional to make sure I even remember to eat because I have literally no appetite. And then food doesn't really taste quite right. And I am still struggling with reflux so I'm having a hard time getting anything down that's not just soft or liquid foods. So lots of yogurt, soup, applesauce, protein drinks, etc. I love food more than just about anything in the world and not being able to enjoy it - and for it to feel like LABOR - is a bummer. Also, I as a subcategory, I miss coffee. I'm always a 2 cup of coffee in the morning with my quiet time and I can't stomach the thought of a single sip of it. I miss wanting coffee! We're going to consult with speech and see if I need a swallow study or something. And it's improved a bit with reflux meds, but I think eating with chemo is just not fun. </p><p>1. <b>My family.</b> I love my family even more than I love food. The girls got back from the beach today, but we're questioning whether they have any symptoms and whether it's safe for them to come visit or not. It feels a little pandemic-y all over again but with MY PEOPLE. I miss my people. They miss me. It breaks my heart. And when I say I miss my people, I also miss my puppy. I can almost feel Otis' soft ears and his neck skins and the weight of him curled up in my lap. I really miss my family.</p><p>This list is to balance out all the gratitude. There's plenty to be grateful for, for sure. I'll go back to appreciating all of those, I promise. But I want to be authentic and real, too, that this is not fun or easy. I can try to have a good attitude, but the reason for that intentional attitude is that there's a lot to overcome. So, I want you to hear that, too.</p><p>Tomorrow mid-afternoon for additional bone marrow biopsy results and a plan. If the plan is more chemo, we'll probably start it right away tomorrow. </p><p>For photos let's just share all the Otis. He's the cutest guy in the world. I mean, seriously:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiopApbtjYbl1mwVPeKw3nfHgJ4YnxL9WJrau1qNDe7gGzBmJlMUzKnpa1dbEo58ZxDX-7iXdXHsSTs2cHKdvJ29Aj0Z7gzGxXQonJMn5fbmLp3Aaid2hrIijPNEw0o_0PbO6Av2drIG5ofACH3c-iytb3a5VtPGFJUD5hHjn06LYj107p0zV2QzQ/s4032/PXL_20230414_131952209.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiopApbtjYbl1mwVPeKw3nfHgJ4YnxL9WJrau1qNDe7gGzBmJlMUzKnpa1dbEo58ZxDX-7iXdXHsSTs2cHKdvJ29Aj0Z7gzGxXQonJMn5fbmLp3Aaid2hrIijPNEw0o_0PbO6Av2drIG5ofACH3c-iytb3a5VtPGFJUD5hHjn06LYj107p0zV2QzQ/s320/PXL_20230414_131952209.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCZsj7DAoGEmDiaREOr8AzESRY2YedcrwRUcYwCcwInoY3ou5bnRG1i0sfR53tXlaU_qad0LtXKi7d4HyoXLwgg0upmE_8WiM8FYVomP2uWOp3TaeSgoQyWP4XQ44cg-VaIxy5b-UnesknKPKOZ5gufJeFo8EbDqq54TFVyLhp-m_vNv_WtUqdMA/s4032/PXL_20230410_175128160.PORTRAIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCZsj7DAoGEmDiaREOr8AzESRY2YedcrwRUcYwCcwInoY3ou5bnRG1i0sfR53tXlaU_qad0LtXKi7d4HyoXLwgg0upmE_8WiM8FYVomP2uWOp3TaeSgoQyWP4XQ44cg-VaIxy5b-UnesknKPKOZ5gufJeFo8EbDqq54TFVyLhp-m_vNv_WtUqdMA/s320/PXL_20230410_175128160.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXFpuyyHGlZyUIMxNOkjdPMnhd-fJ4UMUng-g-dkJYzdGmmYELF9YNxbIX38mIfnqiSr-v6RmvKI_o6ZiQ2NgS0x0Pf1f1H8KOexbkqrL1ww8UIIigcUMpRSvt0GIFR6s-cFxsc1rmHLfpis0JbRyMcY2i8OtSySLqafd-euM_YJVjhoSdfP0Neg/s4032/PXL_20230407_012029672.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXFpuyyHGlZyUIMxNOkjdPMnhd-fJ4UMUng-g-dkJYzdGmmYELF9YNxbIX38mIfnqiSr-v6RmvKI_o6ZiQ2NgS0x0Pf1f1H8KOexbkqrL1ww8UIIigcUMpRSvt0GIFR6s-cFxsc1rmHLfpis0JbRyMcY2i8OtSySLqafd-euM_YJVjhoSdfP0Neg/w300-h400/PXL_20230407_012029672.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWtBhciUWrji90p1Tnnb3SEmqJ8DnzWQ-4iFb1d8zLkIzQ1_jVmPtE5WAy1kWP9GYqCJZUIUSO-4Cdu1PolPUw_ydVWI9hjqua4Wa4w2w-I4yaw9CfjYiT85oyWeJilKkelhpm0CIXRdT0oK1N-jzDP2sSE8ewVhfnhWzKzK7YojvvG-ydbZR3yQ/s4032/PXL_20230224_032946044.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWtBhciUWrji90p1Tnnb3SEmqJ8DnzWQ-4iFb1d8zLkIzQ1_jVmPtE5WAy1kWP9GYqCJZUIUSO-4Cdu1PolPUw_ydVWI9hjqua4Wa4w2w-I4yaw9CfjYiT85oyWeJilKkelhpm0CIXRdT0oK1N-jzDP2sSE8ewVhfnhWzKzK7YojvvG-ydbZR3yQ/w400-h300/PXL_20230224_032946044.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH11dClyuv8qh7kDw-xtI8_kAsa3x94qQa7fayrSPR75nEah4y-J8CmWYf8iED7o5qtMFU2eJ2PLUPSSYZyOvUqinxcFALhnDLLLbqrbtu5faGRregQlunCkgR3Sj_HfIAUq3H2NtjxgXjjEQB99sSJ22Fcb2YGc-MQH9ksJ-CR79wpJIQiDTFOA/s4032/PXL_20230207_143437034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH11dClyuv8qh7kDw-xtI8_kAsa3x94qQa7fayrSPR75nEah4y-J8CmWYf8iED7o5qtMFU2eJ2PLUPSSYZyOvUqinxcFALhnDLLLbqrbtu5faGRregQlunCkgR3Sj_HfIAUq3H2NtjxgXjjEQB99sSJ22Fcb2YGc-MQH9ksJ-CR79wpJIQiDTFOA/w400-h300/PXL_20230207_143437034.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrSLojX33RWs8CEFYZuvGpWszsTIzDcCWPPp_iCRcDTPJCxxCc7hN7Zx5PI8Kmcq1WQiY3SSNMiFP7XmYVkQQabJT-_d2CAdcJU0GrOVeH-7aY2YnjDCqoP7lm3LyI_GLx8gYSF_aVk0Vb_xM9CSRYTpgk6OpEq0Ra_g-KHTJpdLgCVCnIxCqkfg/s4032/PXL_20230104_133527971.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrSLojX33RWs8CEFYZuvGpWszsTIzDcCWPPp_iCRcDTPJCxxCc7hN7Zx5PI8Kmcq1WQiY3SSNMiFP7XmYVkQQabJT-_d2CAdcJU0GrOVeH-7aY2YnjDCqoP7lm3LyI_GLx8gYSF_aVk0Vb_xM9CSRYTpgk6OpEq0Ra_g-KHTJpdLgCVCnIxCqkfg/w480-h640/PXL_20230104_133527971.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">aforementioned puppy ball in lap</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHCUPe-BmbVCDA6CJSCPUdyr5jjKU0uLynvF1aOr91hzZvIgRIiqm8kNCAwDYk5_W6fGFlUgYM7PZgjsyUKZtSHBLiz121YVWKa07LzrkLHVHuZRXYvf450g7GBN0PQgdIqlVDx_jxUHB4fPErnrpBKqtJmx7n1YhvsqrwzwqmPVuuHKzj2BvPFA/s3280/PXL_20220916_010548254.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3280" data-original-width="2464" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHCUPe-BmbVCDA6CJSCPUdyr5jjKU0uLynvF1aOr91hzZvIgRIiqm8kNCAwDYk5_W6fGFlUgYM7PZgjsyUKZtSHBLiz121YVWKa07LzrkLHVHuZRXYvf450g7GBN0PQgdIqlVDx_jxUHB4fPErnrpBKqtJmx7n1YhvsqrwzwqmPVuuHKzj2BvPFA/s320/PXL_20220916_010548254.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcAKNNmXqCyDED8ACCprrRPOSFvwzZpVauvAk3qjoShqbf-jkdGQBhlLzueDz0mkXpGJJ97Oa5GI7_8vNnAwG8HlB0YiEh1gIhOQwcfPsbmPkv_yUuw6DA1GxjVmO-GnCn9E3N98BoxQEhzLGYapyIE5uDQqibRvnRqMdfwkqUm1JB79s3RqmqwQ/s4032/PXL_20220911_014337492.PORTRAIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcAKNNmXqCyDED8ACCprrRPOSFvwzZpVauvAk3qjoShqbf-jkdGQBhlLzueDz0mkXpGJJ97Oa5GI7_8vNnAwG8HlB0YiEh1gIhOQwcfPsbmPkv_yUuw6DA1GxjVmO-GnCn9E3N98BoxQEhzLGYapyIE5uDQqibRvnRqMdfwkqUm1JB79s3RqmqwQ/s320/PXL_20220911_014337492.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD1iRK1k6sIyk-658S9LAM0KGi9sxB0xOeD4kr1sQxBG22FAlqn_dBLs3K8FEkHTiAtoZ68H_qmTsyIhVcovw_HwPA-oiTN6hSwsmj_UQbccObQ2MRLXSYzl8Da6MexjO7BLifr446th7JxaBXiQWGW72z8qNt1vNr8u5iWxWdE7Q1yySgO8oLvw/s4032/PXL_20220902_212041107.PORTRAIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD1iRK1k6sIyk-658S9LAM0KGi9sxB0xOeD4kr1sQxBG22FAlqn_dBLs3K8FEkHTiAtoZ68H_qmTsyIhVcovw_HwPA-oiTN6hSwsmj_UQbccObQ2MRLXSYzl8Da6MexjO7BLifr446th7JxaBXiQWGW72z8qNt1vNr8u5iWxWdE7Q1yySgO8oLvw/w480-h640/PXL_20220902_212041107.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And here's one that makes my heart want to explode. I have three retired men on my street who walk every day around 10:00. And for the three years we have had Otis, he barks at them when they walk. He is not nice to them. He will not shut up. But they've started coming and getting him and taking him with them on their walks now and I *think* he's learned to like them and he's also getting exercise and a break on long days and the sight of the three of them walking him is just so sweet and dear and one of many villaging moments that makes gives me so much joy. (So, I did slip some gratitude in there, too.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUYRodSAYDX5rGprjkd8MIpWavJ_ZNPJVnMr-hDfYAPUUBG1mOAE0tx7ojbntL4Z8YFEYqsVgHsU2QxMizB--cTrzO11rg2p6udld5xItFPJd3Cah4a_oyqThIXqNnVGzCJtXNliNPeTgXa0FbO4qOLJUQWpFqqR01jMXR3AoIxgksAWBtF7KnYw/s2048/received_129654640111777.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUYRodSAYDX5rGprjkd8MIpWavJ_ZNPJVnMr-hDfYAPUUBG1mOAE0tx7ojbntL4Z8YFEYqsVgHsU2QxMizB--cTrzO11rg2p6udld5xItFPJd3Cah4a_oyqThIXqNnVGzCJtXNliNPeTgXa0FbO4qOLJUQWpFqqR01jMXR3AoIxgksAWBtF7KnYw/w640-h480/received_129654640111777.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b>Isaiah 46:5 </b> Even to your <strike>old age</strike> {leukemia days} and <strike>gray</strike> {missing} hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Thanks be to God.</div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p>Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13719454135210195093noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910497165802997871.post-56732293669837424892023-06-14T18:34:00.000-04:002023-06-14T18:34:20.366-04:00Fifteen Years<p> Fifteen years ago:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3WBjQX35Aqtpc5iQ0AugAMLv4OfatXRD2lugaxxjhAoccZFBYhjZ6LU0WtHJAO6bJJXPUUnxlYeh9N2N5YllgFwlzxiYbr7gUBhmABgH7SLpkc0uHWQ3oY0nbBCX5QuNPcrotmPZkX6_2RF4QAxsUlkN9pweWXedl67VFEJlVqf1zLvlXEasOfQ/s3504/davishardy%20216.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3504" data-original-width="2336" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3WBjQX35Aqtpc5iQ0AugAMLv4OfatXRD2lugaxxjhAoccZFBYhjZ6LU0WtHJAO6bJJXPUUnxlYeh9N2N5YllgFwlzxiYbr7gUBhmABgH7SLpkc0uHWQ3oY0nbBCX5QuNPcrotmPZkX6_2RF4QAxsUlkN9pweWXedl67VFEJlVqf1zLvlXEasOfQ/w426-h640/davishardy%20216.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3504" data-original-width="2336" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl6tTFCxxYhHFKTGToK1nDfgtibL1kEOqz6qWq2DBh08g4qakF-mxXGE_5UXxGFwiv1H4Bvs1VZu2pxGdXlaaa_2m-eODIaiesFswNU9Fllp5Z_v0C2PX5uLVsgkoGG6Vv-OjXP8uXV2VRIu4LMSCtSNBfOyIZAZ45G2a6A-0FJlskkoCNtEk-kw/w426-h640/davishardy%20807.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBP3QeMN2_ae2vKDXg5Aewxrh91dnVGphaqB9Knp1QX30HBAYDXVNHjdj7Dim94hDkmpP19kSLIGnP9Rp5xItGnR4mkdZqVQyPqSmzGAy1SPJ5wyKTP5xdhiT0z_HtusVL8q88j8GX95mYLRrNLgLSdKcdoYTjrDWqEnXh2kV9hOH5Cc0BvV01xg/s4368/davishardy%20830.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2912" data-original-width="4368" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBP3QeMN2_ae2vKDXg5Aewxrh91dnVGphaqB9Knp1QX30HBAYDXVNHjdj7Dim94hDkmpP19kSLIGnP9Rp5xItGnR4mkdZqVQyPqSmzGAy1SPJ5wyKTP5xdhiT0z_HtusVL8q88j8GX95mYLRrNLgLSdKcdoYTjrDWqEnXh2kV9hOH5Cc0BvV01xg/w640-h426/davishardy%20830.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguxF8FSx479hom5okn3_lZVZ5KIw46ot40tp7f1fc1IW2ojpeD5V2wfyr6wu3NIfNmTOg78nvz_9u5-WQ3mFb1yc6GHplOKZdq9-zAK2c5rjHnSNag8nGf9LksrEPu24RGhIcpCJ4ESnhjZNSNSC65FTnqphsd4eJl9YXIMqmgoxXDsLHGatUsgQ/s4368/davishardy%20832.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2912" data-original-width="4368" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguxF8FSx479hom5okn3_lZVZ5KIw46ot40tp7f1fc1IW2ojpeD5V2wfyr6wu3NIfNmTOg78nvz_9u5-WQ3mFb1yc6GHplOKZdq9-zAK2c5rjHnSNag8nGf9LksrEPu24RGhIcpCJ4ESnhjZNSNSC65FTnqphsd4eJl9YXIMqmgoxXDsLHGatUsgQ/w640-h426/davishardy%20832.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqRpLUEJ-8ogynn07GHEVKa75btbIWyi6F6fBTmf-Dnr539QfyMrcFtWrjVDoP_IAsoOmCj9j6b4HFCxWZDpYDSnyN4zKqEviqCRsaNqWt5iPeR7zkJNtE8MEpqRuQpcTnpBroxy_l6WKfJ02xEtaBWmHaOol1uFM1XD0f4uHZR3XFE98kdN05cw/s4368/davishardy%20837.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2912" data-original-width="4368" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqRpLUEJ-8ogynn07GHEVKa75btbIWyi6F6fBTmf-Dnr539QfyMrcFtWrjVDoP_IAsoOmCj9j6b4HFCxWZDpYDSnyN4zKqEviqCRsaNqWt5iPeR7zkJNtE8MEpqRuQpcTnpBroxy_l6WKfJ02xEtaBWmHaOol1uFM1XD0f4uHZR3XFE98kdN05cw/w640-h426/davishardy%20837.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>That was a beautiful night (even with the thunderstorm).</div><div><br /></div><div>Tonight we'll eat some Thai takeout in a hospital room and live deeply into those vows in every way. </div><div><br /></div><div>That will be a beautiful night, too.</div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks be to God.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div>Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13719454135210195093noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910497165802997871.post-74084115857057995532023-06-13T18:45:00.000-04:002023-06-13T18:45:01.880-04:00Choose-Your-Own-Adventure<p>Today has been a pretty calm day, medically speaking. Still just running lots of antibiotics and tweaking meds a little here and there. I got some more platelets. I'm feeling pretty okay. Even Zoomed into the weekly staff meeting:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgUVAj8Tfrx1ELFX8guT4bhr-2PB44cG2bnt0rwxLBqarqqOWEc_PWPLu-wXRWgYwc8NrtRsMC7-K5_2FFXDhVE1Naqt2vr-T7ZYdpQHBe6XHTRsK5hPPenh8EqcVyvScB5IbY01gIAj_Mpgy9UGIH2FLjGeHcTMuMdqdouBrq6sDhJkv1LCURKQ/s4032/PXL_20230613_152159337.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgUVAj8Tfrx1ELFX8guT4bhr-2PB44cG2bnt0rwxLBqarqqOWEc_PWPLu-wXRWgYwc8NrtRsMC7-K5_2FFXDhVE1Naqt2vr-T7ZYdpQHBe6XHTRsK5hPPenh8EqcVyvScB5IbY01gIAj_Mpgy9UGIH2FLjGeHcTMuMdqdouBrq6sDhJkv1LCURKQ/w480-h640/PXL_20230613_152159337.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>(See all my files behind the computer? You can take the girl out of her office, but.....)</i></div><br /><p>So, let's take today's blog to look ahead just a little. If you remember from our previous <a href="https://www.thehardylife.com/2023/06/chemo-regimen-for-dummies.html">SCIENCE LESSON</a>, I received what's called 7+3 "Induction Chemo". That's seven days of cytarabine and 3 days of daunorubicin. That finished last Friday, June 9. I'm also taking an oral trial drug called selinexor and it is given on Mondays and Saturdays for 6 doses. So even though I'm not really actively "getting" much chemo, the drugs are in my body doing their thing. My chemo side effects are likely to start to peak around the end of this week/early next week (like hair loss; hopefully not nausea). </p><p>On <b>Thursday, June 15 at 9:50 AM I will have another Bone Marrow Biopsy (BMB)</b>. The first one was done bedside and if you recall my bones were too awesome and we didn't really get any useful marrow. The one this Thursday will be done under sedation and in CT so they're really sure to get everything they need. This will be the big piece of data we need to determine how things are going and what we might need to do next. Those results should all be back by <u>Friday, June 16</u> so we can make decisions before the weekend.</p><p><b>Choose-Your-Own-Adventure* Plan A</b>: We're satisfied with what we see in the BMB and decide no further chemo is needed right now for the induction phase and I have about another two weeks in the hospital to let my counts come back up and stuff and could be discharged by July 1.</p><p><b>Choose-Your-Own-Adventure* Plan B:</b> We decide to go after that cancer a little bit harder with some extra rounds of cytarabine and/or daunorubicin. In this scenario, we're looking at another 4 weeks in the hospital with a discharge around mid-July. </p><p>Once I'm discharged, I'll have about a week and a half off before we do what is called a "Recovery BMB." So under Choose-Your-Own-Adventure* Plan A we'd get those results around mid-July. We'd be looking for the word "remission" there. Let's claim it!</p><p>If I am in remission, then we might start two rounds of what's called "Consolidation Chemo" (or "Booster Chemo"). Again the details will all come later once we have that good data from these future BMB, but those are generally six week cycles where I'll only be inpatient for about 4 days getting chemo, but then be discharged and able to be home some during each cycle as long as there aren't complications or infections. </p><p>So we're now another 12 weeks out....mid/late October. We might be looking at the possibility of a Bone Marrow Transplant around then. If we go that route, it is another month in-patient.</p><p>We'll go on like this as long as we need to in order to keep hearing the word "remission." </p><p>And after 5 years of being "in remission" AML patients are considered cured. (Here for it.)</p><p>So that's the long range view, the best we know it for now. Not much to do or say until we can get to Thursday's Bone Marrow Biopsy. I'm anxious about it, both for the procedure itself and the information and results it will give us. But once we have that info we can choose the right adventure for us. </p><p>Between now and then I appreciate your prayers....</p><p>-Obviously it would be great if we get to choose Adventure Plan A. I'd love to be breaking out of here before Independence Day.</p><p>- That the procedure itself will go well on Thursday. </p><p>-That my nerves will be calm (the sedation ought to take care of it, but I'm skeeeeered.)</p><p>- That the info we get from BMB gives us lots of information about my sub-type and overall prognosis going forward (and that it be good.)</p><p>WHEW! That's quite enough science for tonight. Thanks for hanging in on this Choose-Your-Own-Adventure* </p><p>~Chrissy</p><p><br /></p><p>*You don't actually get to choose at all.</p><p><br /></p><p>P.S. You knew I wasn't going to leave you without any beach pics, right?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8UdkfrJ7GOwzC8R4yVSs8TmH76Pa4MoQzIxBzoEHlcvmtQAORvTbNKflQUhWWk9NV7dVuWACeE2agb7MEBIMz0h-kivFJEnUp0NmRGYVbvy3vATI3By0MjW50Ure2KieCtzGNpxcE19SXovpMEo4Kwp4AU3SgLrXQ_Q7d1OhytqqtMC44vYOXrw/s2016/received_1493732507833481.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8UdkfrJ7GOwzC8R4yVSs8TmH76Pa4MoQzIxBzoEHlcvmtQAORvTbNKflQUhWWk9NV7dVuWACeE2agb7MEBIMz0h-kivFJEnUp0NmRGYVbvy3vATI3By0MjW50Ure2KieCtzGNpxcE19SXovpMEo4Kwp4AU3SgLrXQ_Q7d1OhytqqtMC44vYOXrw/w400-h300/received_1493732507833481.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Ka7cfUij9He0Qb6y8KKMeFfPuGMKiksuo8jpCVd1stzhRlzyMq908L6XOttQlwbXBeOwtWY3y7k4YSEQoTKhaQkLHx7hQuwMV6W5C73903HTiEFjbrt9mngC2ZGIANL0BGXXx3gpp6IpQTgaF2-z6FN-WerZ9xF0EwhwbnuGjK9Ob-xSBaNgEA/s2048/received_1704254499988722.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1538" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Ka7cfUij9He0Qb6y8KKMeFfPuGMKiksuo8jpCVd1stzhRlzyMq908L6XOttQlwbXBeOwtWY3y7k4YSEQoTKhaQkLHx7hQuwMV6W5C73903HTiEFjbrt9mngC2ZGIANL0BGXXx3gpp6IpQTgaF2-z6FN-WerZ9xF0EwhwbnuGjK9Ob-xSBaNgEA/w640-h480/received_1704254499988722.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi26I2GfDoTHhLMS1UcU7MQIaYb1B-QG_YIGmnUWnR3gGahmahak6aidCldfi5uFTmnpb8htKQ0yj7H-yUcZ1bU6t8OTDJ1ONnpsm6mMOASyyna0Zdw3tyfNckx5mgd-pwNKl6qOOioSMmZUZ2H6OJA-Ezc4CnUyXO62lOxwAovAg_vXGtK6r6pPw/s2048/received_827640122054635.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi26I2GfDoTHhLMS1UcU7MQIaYb1B-QG_YIGmnUWnR3gGahmahak6aidCldfi5uFTmnpb8htKQ0yj7H-yUcZ1bU6t8OTDJ1ONnpsm6mMOASyyna0Zdw3tyfNckx5mgd-pwNKl6qOOioSMmZUZ2H6OJA-Ezc4CnUyXO62lOxwAovAg_vXGtK6r6pPw/s320/received_827640122054635.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCfwe0ay8zacw_5oYrdinjJaNVk9Xc9t0Mnus2wsw04G-NHliPYsWQBh15TfoP6CO3eMEdA4qEnrlIuH5x-_b85JhjvN4OYqjtcygB7a2Epw9XYhRkeQdwTgLm8aiy-5u41SyutXOpXCSE9OFURryjb7AKCGfsculSBYBDE5DONKLd-Qf-6fi9eA/s2048/received_238108488957278.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCfwe0ay8zacw_5oYrdinjJaNVk9Xc9t0Mnus2wsw04G-NHliPYsWQBh15TfoP6CO3eMEdA4qEnrlIuH5x-_b85JhjvN4OYqjtcygB7a2Epw9XYhRkeQdwTgLm8aiy-5u41SyutXOpXCSE9OFURryjb7AKCGfsculSBYBDE5DONKLd-Qf-6fi9eA/s320/received_238108488957278.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIJP6b5OrtVVj9eddMsOWC8hebpIg8OKAOAu9FZqSihBFx05fGwFhUNxnhanAbrAUshDedM-mGVs3JEduExyFa1SAXKjE-B2cEfscyqfnrQOY3QApIw9fygJtnIpHxxS03Ag6ZXWyjXI7PleutVJbsL9lH4Ou_YqWyUnlkuENpOPmPf9ycPxE3xA/s2048/received_1022953418869528.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIJP6b5OrtVVj9eddMsOWC8hebpIg8OKAOAu9FZqSihBFx05fGwFhUNxnhanAbrAUshDedM-mGVs3JEduExyFa1SAXKjE-B2cEfscyqfnrQOY3QApIw9fygJtnIpHxxS03Ag6ZXWyjXI7PleutVJbsL9lH4Ou_YqWyUnlkuENpOPmPf9ycPxE3xA/w480-h640/received_1022953418869528.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Thanks be to God. For all of it.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p>Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13719454135210195093noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910497165802997871.post-52419608563152799512023-06-12T20:33:00.001-04:002023-06-12T20:51:30.272-04:00Meals You Can Chew!<p>So the good news for today is that after around 48 hours of pretty persistent and high fever, I am finally back to fever free and feeling like myself again! I'm on all sorts of antibiotics to help cover what it might have been, but it's just as likely that it was viral and we really will probably never know. But it's gone and I'm feeling better so that's great.</p><p>Today's new symptom was a raging attack of Acid Reflux. I've had reflux for most of my adult life and been on various and sundry medications for it over the years (and you can always count on me to have a tums in my purse). But I was on a pretty big health kick the last year. Many of you have noticed that I lost over 42 pounds between my 41st and my 42nd birthday. That was weight loss the hard way - through intentional diet and exercise and lifestyle changes (and some help from Noom!) The weight loss had nothing to do with leukemia (in case you were wondering if that was why I was getting skinnier, nope! I get all the credit for that hard work still!), but it did resolve my reflux almost completely. So I had not been taking any reflux meds when I was admitted. </p><p>I don't know why it didn't click for me sooner that many of the uncomfortable symptoms I was experiencing (dry hacky cough, chest pain, great difficulty swallowing any solid foods at all, metallic taste in my mouth, etc.) were all Reflux Related. But my very favorite resident Dr. Kalada helped me put that together this morning and we are adding in a couple of good reflux meds. So I'm already experiencing some relief from that and looking forward to some meals I can chew in the future!</p><p>Five Good Things!</p><p>1. I had enough strength today to finally open up the big stack of cards that had accumulated. And I mean it when I say "BIG STACK OF CARDS." How one person could be the recipient of this much love blows my mind. And there's already another whole stack to match this one!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRwF4550t8AmHpuwGsSrvP0lLEtcLhvHZH-UHuSaPQ8f6K_D5hcvppixVL7DmZmz-eL1r-Cj1hB6rE3W8da0lpAd9dnsWgYPJROqAC8R3q-32KfwdWJjxozUI-yCYgnFV4unmCFYzT0HHhLYl4-hRdds46B9cCOSxCZQSLO5IIp1mP7lst2REOBA/s4032/PXL_20230612_142716704.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRwF4550t8AmHpuwGsSrvP0lLEtcLhvHZH-UHuSaPQ8f6K_D5hcvppixVL7DmZmz-eL1r-Cj1hB6rE3W8da0lpAd9dnsWgYPJROqAC8R3q-32KfwdWJjxozUI-yCYgnFV4unmCFYzT0HHhLYl4-hRdds46B9cCOSxCZQSLO5IIp1mP7lst2REOBA/s320/PXL_20230612_142716704.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">2. My girls continue to have a great time at the beach. Even though I miss them terribly and they miss me, we have the ability to video chat and text with each other and the pictures of them in their happy place make me happy. I hope their spirits are having some healing. Here they are on Friday with my Uncle Buddy (mom's brother) and Aunt Katharine and Sweet Mama.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG0bDVHi1ObVoW8s7W2-T6uD0xoVmaAZHE6ugw1o1JABo2UatqI-PhKeD2bVbeMMzxh270zPVOTi-Lekc7_Gwh_OELAOPVWQWtDPKjZB3rgIWNKse_M2bVjnBLStpTgniGvYL94gAihwzYmuPz4pFcMM-0jLv10wz8Wi6E6YXHxY38VsibQ0DxUA/s2016/received_1697472467355692.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG0bDVHi1ObVoW8s7W2-T6uD0xoVmaAZHE6ugw1o1JABo2UatqI-PhKeD2bVbeMMzxh270zPVOTi-Lekc7_Gwh_OELAOPVWQWtDPKjZB3rgIWNKse_M2bVjnBLStpTgniGvYL94gAihwzYmuPz4pFcMM-0jLv10wz8Wi6E6YXHxY38VsibQ0DxUA/w400-h300/received_1697472467355692.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">3. That weight loss I mentioned above. I'm pretty proud of it. I am coming into this battle in the best shape I've been in since having kids. Here's a side by side from my 41st vs 42nd birthdays. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiefkCa-Xq6B33quBK2XDkMXo5ulQgOlt9gXne6QPp-_JizQwPdMQLyqpqWjedeEUqHTr1V4uGTPxPVEGKOj6-Isql8Fzog2aWt231rP2LbI4XsGQrif5apPLYfrohsIo13lH0XwV381UKUd850hczKD1j2ZTNsx-l61TtajBGln6PZuu2tDHvL6w/s3195/20230430_193020-COLLAGE.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="3195" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiefkCa-Xq6B33quBK2XDkMXo5ulQgOlt9gXne6QPp-_JizQwPdMQLyqpqWjedeEUqHTr1V4uGTPxPVEGKOj6-Isql8Fzog2aWt231rP2LbI4XsGQrif5apPLYfrohsIo13lH0XwV381UKUd850hczKD1j2ZTNsx-l61TtajBGln6PZuu2tDHvL6w/w400-h300/20230430_193020-COLLAGE.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>This whole thing is gonna wreck my body in a lot of ways, I know. But I hope this is a reminder for myself that I can do the hard work, have the discipline, to reach the goals I set my mind to. I've done it the past year and I'll do it again!<div><br /></div><div>4. A Shower (no picture; you're welcome). It's a whole big production to shower here, but it's always worth it. I had an extra long one today and it felt so good.</div><div><br /></div><div>5. Chick Fil A milkshake delivery from my evening guest. (Once the girls are back in town it will be harder for Robert to visit during the dinner/bedtime hour, but we've really enjoyed the chance to just chill out together and connect in the evenings the last few days. He's my biggest cheerleader and keeps repeating over and over and over again "What my baby wants, my baby gets." He's really giving that 110% to pick up all the extra details that I usually manage while still loving me so well. We do well together most of the time (good thing, since we're married), but we kinda excel during a crisis. I'm thankful for him.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_-meLnXs0vhCZaDbFpdDtRt8B8lqdb0PpJSL3fMDVY-JYIIfVGAW4Zo5SKOZPwM7Ezeqe7sHyqTKd9Qm-LH6DVNL0jEh-SR2bIOTfe9kA4pNhyrbqxKYQM2Th3eSn-Aw97BaRI0wIZyiT5y_4BjEjRae1Z2lERb3CNMs2uMc7Ga5lQGd-RwNGFQ/s3280/PXL_20230612_235342902.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3280" data-original-width="2464" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_-meLnXs0vhCZaDbFpdDtRt8B8lqdb0PpJSL3fMDVY-JYIIfVGAW4Zo5SKOZPwM7Ezeqe7sHyqTKd9Qm-LH6DVNL0jEh-SR2bIOTfe9kA4pNhyrbqxKYQM2Th3eSn-Aw97BaRI0wIZyiT5y_4BjEjRae1Z2lERb3CNMs2uMc7Ga5lQGd-RwNGFQ/s320/PXL_20230612_235342902.MP.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>And I'm grateful for all of you who urge to me carry on! Thanks be to God.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>~ Chrissy</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p></div>Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13719454135210195093noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910497165802997871.post-28157698702715783842023-06-11T18:34:00.007-04:002023-06-11T18:46:03.278-04:00Sunday Funday<p>The quick medical update from the hospital front is that I've been struggling this weekend with an unknown infection that has resulted in high fevers, low blood pressure and high heart rate. Since I have no immune system at all, they covered me in antibiotics while running cultures to see if they can determine the exact cause of the infection to treat any more specifically. Nothing back yet, and it's very common to never know what it was. In this case, I think it's likely that the girls shared a little viral something with me before they went to the beach as Clara was running a quick fever yesterday, too. They have given me lots of Tylenol, covered me in ice packs, and I think after almost 48 hours, in just the last hour the fever has broken....and hopefully will stay that way. I've slept a huge proportion of the weekend in that fever-sleep state. </p><p>We're going to tighten up our visitors to a very small number and have those folks mask in public as much as they are able to reduce the chance of this maybe happening again. But it's not at all unusual for chemo patients to have a fever like this, so while the team was concerned they weren't panicked.</p><p>Enough of the boring. Let's have some views from the beach!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhiRUtaFqSz5JTczzaTBZK1hIypf_4azdV0JgBHcheG0j9x-XGZOJ5WCTDNhQjUNHJZdc_smSi1TtUNkpFBdn5yHEjLk8mgUeb0CBwDMq_YkvVkITwp0MEgqTgFvlVsu1Q_EObvxDHUl3u688nGataXZira4Nresn99wrpKWTPl79lNn-Tvm4jeA/s2048/received_571512308399457.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhiRUtaFqSz5JTczzaTBZK1hIypf_4azdV0JgBHcheG0j9x-XGZOJ5WCTDNhQjUNHJZdc_smSi1TtUNkpFBdn5yHEjLk8mgUeb0CBwDMq_YkvVkITwp0MEgqTgFvlVsu1Q_EObvxDHUl3u688nGataXZira4Nresn99wrpKWTPl79lNn-Tvm4jeA/w400-h300/received_571512308399457.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVHox-vr7UY63P4ZhjM1i1SZz4WEIhyowE1QlfET7KFkPD70RtbJdSdhOhW1EPM7Es1WtL9nsW8aXcYoXwfn9aVN6N0IjzVpYBz86-x59rSI2G9YctUiYCPrWWC9_OjXu73AiPEbl-idvxiyc_D9cdtDCp6viyCuuYALU03ryYL7icKld1FpI_Hg/s2048/received_267970749058615.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDd01ddB8jHBPsWT9gXaarGcL0hXjzjSeWn0b4HXzKgTBAg5ULfCSB3BL0H0uL3UBmFG9DmyapJ-lagCHNE49AZt6tS55VFOsZoMSMh8wnYCQmdwB5JsDvxKJUaaLgDP0DhrrvP_rKKID4XJ5KSpGDaeYOI9wHWS8tXQgopAXQLsA3V7GiRn6tCQ/s320/5400018052611933740.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">These girls love the beach the way their Mom and Sweet Mama do. Even though I know it was hard for my mom to leave me, I'm so so so grateful that the three of them are there together in a place that is truly cleansing to their souls. From the sounds of it they've spent hours upon hours riding in waves, putzing in the sand, and just savoring their happy place. Sure wish I were with them, but this is the next best thing. </div><div><br /></div>Thanks for all your prayers over the weekend as we battled this particular challenge. There will be more to come, but I think we're coming through this one.<div><br /></div><div>Thanks be to God.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p></div>Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13719454135210195093noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910497165802997871.post-71565915046414277702023-06-09T18:04:00.002-04:002023-06-09T18:24:01.370-04:00Flashback Friday: A Dozen Years Ago<p><span> </span>On this day, twelve years ago, June 9, 2011, <a href="https://www.thehardylife.com/2011/06/welcome-home-clara.html">we brought Clara home</a> from this very hospital after her <a href="https://www.thehardylife.com/2011/06/78-days-later.html">78 day stay</a> fighting to live after being born with a Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimjgZ1i2CO2epsoQ1zPCnnNbRbVaPckys6RyRe-gKW9Ql5u_g4EUV4xz3GYJxDCbDhQm0Cp6ZGEiGi5ZwVPYqoP6CCLDbSCJ7B_Ji_4w_Fq2f8Q-TcI4nvdk5KvtvNgk-oNS1zlkcqOv7D0LyWS_tT_tO8KBPnCtc93T2diQ05ppHyNimH24sPWw/s3888/IMG_1699.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="3888" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimjgZ1i2CO2epsoQ1zPCnnNbRbVaPckys6RyRe-gKW9Ql5u_g4EUV4xz3GYJxDCbDhQm0Cp6ZGEiGi5ZwVPYqoP6CCLDbSCJ7B_Ji_4w_Fq2f8Q-TcI4nvdk5KvtvNgk-oNS1zlkcqOv7D0LyWS_tT_tO8KBPnCtc93T2diQ05ppHyNimH24sPWw/w640-h426/IMG_1699.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBqmpH9aueIlUNWt9saJbGvVN6FNrSu5fs9n1IX6SmY26P0xQqDxZ-qHxArlUMQ1EtGcUBoZLeoMKLWexPmHEy7o8nc1VGmlSNT92lOgbrIwUd_yq2fBpIKh8a0qUe2WV7nP4Iyom6YYqzn5X5XFiTeX44CWa1qNAD_p5MTAjyyNCH6PpqDGy3uQ/s3888/IMG_1707.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3888" data-original-width="2592" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBqmpH9aueIlUNWt9saJbGvVN6FNrSu5fs9n1IX6SmY26P0xQqDxZ-qHxArlUMQ1EtGcUBoZLeoMKLWexPmHEy7o8nc1VGmlSNT92lOgbrIwUd_yq2fBpIKh8a0qUe2WV7nP4Iyom6YYqzn5X5XFiTeX44CWa1qNAD_p5MTAjyyNCH6PpqDGy3uQ/w426-h640/IMG_1707.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC3ra3LzMMRyxXc3AADlpVBUzZAKRQ4mu98TvGarPMdUVhtNR8gZolc06-QwHh0HrOLdD3kdef4yZNe_AjfmhmsHH04ej6RQFvKwQRJbFX2LIufhOjjIYVTo_pJ3cbUiCn6qNZX2bhZLfaBFJaFYQP-tcBxQKQ9OCjM4e0ugeFOFltH1mA-9NoTA/s3888/IMG_1718.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="3888" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC3ra3LzMMRyxXc3AADlpVBUzZAKRQ4mu98TvGarPMdUVhtNR8gZolc06-QwHh0HrOLdD3kdef4yZNe_AjfmhmsHH04ej6RQFvKwQRJbFX2LIufhOjjIYVTo_pJ3cbUiCn6qNZX2bhZLfaBFJaFYQP-tcBxQKQ9OCjM4e0ugeFOFltH1mA-9NoTA/w640-h426/IMG_1718.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuoP_89NGWAUBqnm49t0a6CQdER0dEkiWBWvmMqx27XRWnzBH7h2SN2q23jtTJswkHbNHEHaSVQJJF9Idamhus4sri_cXkLNSYhU9lVK6g0hscNvFwWGujis6rJycGpBat7u8mOCNW5AGiLuYgs_qP1i83xIzy2wveRCYLZuqLlKn4XAkEBPlOUg/s3888/IMG_1728.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="3888" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuoP_89NGWAUBqnm49t0a6CQdER0dEkiWBWvmMqx27XRWnzBH7h2SN2q23jtTJswkHbNHEHaSVQJJF9Idamhus4sri_cXkLNSYhU9lVK6g0hscNvFwWGujis6rJycGpBat7u8mOCNW5AGiLuYgs_qP1i83xIzy2wveRCYLZuqLlKn4XAkEBPlOUg/w640-h426/IMG_1728.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKU3vBIaRiiKZJXeh0bMqq_IlupseSgeYcETPZV8J_Y7r-JenS797PEuAB-xhGtA5ZtVg5zYBcakZ5enfh64ITIdS0dqOZi8f9eh_AjKfC9Eophniw68elrCOP0dOPgjON1wfX6pX_WU3-8Q-BfRckgeSvWjWAywn-_G0M2cfIJ7P_2HTt8gnkjQ/s3888/IMG_1735.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="3888" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKU3vBIaRiiKZJXeh0bMqq_IlupseSgeYcETPZV8J_Y7r-JenS797PEuAB-xhGtA5ZtVg5zYBcakZ5enfh64ITIdS0dqOZi8f9eh_AjKfC9Eophniw68elrCOP0dOPgjON1wfX6pX_WU3-8Q-BfRckgeSvWjWAywn-_G0M2cfIJ7P_2HTt8gnkjQ/w400-h266/IMG_1735.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">RIP Rufus, we sure loved you good boy.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDcBmcnMqkmKxKzcncKurW2bYEyg-Y9Iaq4L4_D-D4jlOwnl_aYsRbkeP69kyRvrpQtzfIgCZWdA_0jsR89nUj5FPhZph5XQaCT6CiDluA0M6CpNgfN1mKRGJRKG1XBW_t0daZ7SwlttCUNq0sGDo_Be_Mry6kvInADD7Nc-3eW-kOkYLboI5lXg/s3888/IMG_1778.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3888" data-original-width="2592" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDcBmcnMqkmKxKzcncKurW2bYEyg-Y9Iaq4L4_D-D4jlOwnl_aYsRbkeP69kyRvrpQtzfIgCZWdA_0jsR89nUj5FPhZph5XQaCT6CiDluA0M6CpNgfN1mKRGJRKG1XBW_t0daZ7SwlttCUNq0sGDo_Be_Mry6kvInADD7Nc-3eW-kOkYLboI5lXg/w426-h640/IMG_1778.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div><br /></div><p><span> </span>We always remember her on June 9 and celebrate what a big milestone that was! So, of course, it's been on my mind a lot today. Clara's birth and fight for her life were a crash course in navigating hospital life. We learned how to go to rounds, ask questions, notice trends and record them. We learned how to park in the right spot, wash before entering (NO ONE wore masks then), how to make her little spot feel cozy and comfortable with blankets from home and not too sterile. Stepping back into those rhythms the last week has been weirdly comfortable. There are moments when I realize "I did this for Clara and now I'm doing it for me." Loading patient belonging bags and toting things back and forth between the hospital. Guessing what symptom might be a side effect of what and what medications might be able to be adjusted to solve a problem. I haven't been allowed to leave my teeny little room in the Cancer Center since they plopped me here because I'm on a 21 Day Covid Lockdown, but I know as my family treks back and forth, walking these same halls, they must be remembering and feeling so many of those same things, too.</p><p><span> </span>I'm not trying to get into any toxic thinking patterns about how Clara's journey prepared me for this one. Quite frankly we'd have preferred to have neither, thank you very much. I don't think this happened to me because "I have enough faith" or "I'm built to handle it" or any of that other nonsense. But I do think our journeys prepare us for our journeys and that I can actually give some gratitude for all that I learned twelve years ago and how it's helped me slip into hospital life more smoothly than I might have otherwise. I trust and adore the care team that's giving me care now just the same way I trusted and adored Clara's care team then. We're in such good hands with the village of family and friends caring for us and staff here working so hard to treat me. My kids have amazing support from a huge web of loved ones ready to walk through this with them.</p><p>Clara said something to me this morning that I thought was really wise for a twelve year old. She compared this leukemia diagnosis to our time during COVID, "We always used to say we had it so much better than most people because we had you and Sweet Mama to teach us and jobs the grownups could keep working and plenty of resources to be able to endure it really well. We had COVID better than most people had COVID. And now the same thing is true with your cancer. We have this amazing hospital right in our town, our entire friends and family and church and tons of people helping us and caring about us while we go through this. We're going to be okay." </p><p>Can you believe that came from that baby in the Homecoming pictures from 12 years ago?</p><p>On today, I celebrate Clara's Homecoming and the twelve years of rich and abundant life she's had since. And I look forward to my own future "Homecoming," a day that I am claiming will come with full and complete healing (in five years of full remission!)and a rich and abundant life to follow in part because of the journeys that have prepared us for this one. </p><p>Clara today, 12 years later:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2PLhFqoWfoTgmpwiVHIMGAMw1YZ0zor2xQMbY4HuomDiq2t2HwmCVKPPHd64xnQfJONOY66vzcwptM73xNzpXKZA_JQkslUhS_pu0nI5vDV1Kxuj33764yp1kA36HsMUY0oXsrJ_RMXjtkQL8pDa8Q1_WypdCUBAmeechYBdOvAETh_UXmkaNTA/s4032/PXL_20230609_135221670.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2PLhFqoWfoTgmpwiVHIMGAMw1YZ0zor2xQMbY4HuomDiq2t2HwmCVKPPHd64xnQfJONOY66vzcwptM73xNzpXKZA_JQkslUhS_pu0nI5vDV1Kxuj33764yp1kA36HsMUY0oXsrJ_RMXjtkQL8pDa8Q1_WypdCUBAmeechYBdOvAETh_UXmkaNTA/s320/PXL_20230609_135221670.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p>Thanks be to God.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13719454135210195093noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910497165802997871.post-38735500221190155512023-06-08T17:30:00.001-04:002023-06-08T18:00:21.550-04:00Five Good Things (June 8)<p> Quick little update for you tonight because there isn't too much to report.</p><p><b>Five Good Things Today</b></p><p><br /></p><p>1) Four awesome nausea meds working together in tandem to give me a great day of NO NAUSEA.</p><p style="text-align: center;">(No pic. They're just there.)</p><p>2) Visits from my girls before they head off to the beach for the week.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj65LAmXV4bk4oSDAtbloD9r0I-0DljhZA7wil0Bm5JSycrGFAInbhJ1fKox-cSBgVqbBow3CfCkg19CJbIfG8JYExgvh3z2nHEyO-Q57zNpPjn7NsJVJgwbWt-1UG8bEojaukUOy4kwa6nlOWW1dTp9RczaSzXslOAaAvNN6IaDswLxQBeTHDFMw/s3280/PXL_20230608_154326556.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2464" data-original-width="3280" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj65LAmXV4bk4oSDAtbloD9r0I-0DljhZA7wil0Bm5JSycrGFAInbhJ1fKox-cSBgVqbBow3CfCkg19CJbIfG8JYExgvh3z2nHEyO-Q57zNpPjn7NsJVJgwbWt-1UG8bEojaukUOy4kwa6nlOWW1dTp9RczaSzXslOAaAvNN6IaDswLxQBeTHDFMw/w640-h480/PXL_20230608_154326556.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">3) Got me some of those sweet sweet platelets (WHY ARE THEY YELLOW? WHO CAN ANSWER THIS SCIENTIFIC PHENOMENON? THEY SHOULD BE RED).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd5sXjKmPo2EUs_MchXlv0blRxr0nWt_t7VfZPdG2db5z9lDilAo2HFsXi7_I9eSBs3SSJTaN5OZZwvexE-3Qi5HpD4c-Jf016Brzv1nLmqrAfEbqPWHGdlVaKoUM4sA-dxOEalhPnSEftKgNhJyQ643oLHmhTT0oEzK1nHAnpKFyuzzzmUFFAwA/s4032/PXL_20230608_165113662.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd5sXjKmPo2EUs_MchXlv0blRxr0nWt_t7VfZPdG2db5z9lDilAo2HFsXi7_I9eSBs3SSJTaN5OZZwvexE-3Qi5HpD4c-Jf016Brzv1nLmqrAfEbqPWHGdlVaKoUM4sA-dxOEalhPnSEftKgNhJyQ643oLHmhTT0oEzK1nHAnpKFyuzzzmUFFAwA/s320/PXL_20230608_165113662.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">4) These cool socks sent from a friend with a little bit of love and inspiration. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaZXx8rmao_Z4ANfznq6pqUl0H_ymAObb4d9vReWh7ikHcBfUl9FNRoN45FNIOil9RnIN2F3-2KfchCqeK-u49icYWIQH5Z9SvLn3f-bvU5a9p53bKYzKXdlaxs96addjX-5AkS0R9e_0hjbaE3kNW4IVxqt6mCzA8kU6tR9togdRl6gpY_PAjDA/s4032/PXL_20230608_183011565.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaZXx8rmao_Z4ANfznq6pqUl0H_ymAObb4d9vReWh7ikHcBfUl9FNRoN45FNIOil9RnIN2F3-2KfchCqeK-u49icYWIQH5Z9SvLn3f-bvU5a9p53bKYzKXdlaxs96addjX-5AkS0R9e_0hjbaE3kNW4IVxqt6mCzA8kU6tR9togdRl6gpY_PAjDA/s320/PXL_20230608_183011565.jpg" width="240" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxfYchc69PN2mT0PyN3I7FadvFV8qBK7M95I5A9a1YmECDV3gOsk6nkOQzEIApAHZ3S4s0SQISM8Tc7azGB61aOKNttvkDAfR-vxusD5C08_1VfIw5Q0VH2p3CRYXGu_HphHkRESYO9T9z0RIUOmvwl9uXkoG-J0yqCUo0S_va7Nd1-UVq1jhmSA/s4032/PXL_20230608_183036765.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxfYchc69PN2mT0PyN3I7FadvFV8qBK7M95I5A9a1YmECDV3gOsk6nkOQzEIApAHZ3S4s0SQISM8Tc7azGB61aOKNttvkDAfR-vxusD5C08_1VfIw5Q0VH2p3CRYXGu_HphHkRESYO9T9z0RIUOmvwl9uXkoG-J0yqCUo0S_va7Nd1-UVq1jhmSA/s320/PXL_20230608_183036765.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">5) Tonight I'm going to simul-watch (is that what you call it? Like pandemic times when you would watch something with people in a different house from you at the same time and just text commentary about it all the way through) the second half of this <a href="https://www.pbs.org/wnet/gperf/celebrating-50-years-of-broadways-best/14658/">PBS Broadway Special </a> that we started the other night. Highlights include Chita Rivera at age 90 and Sutton Foster at perfect. Maybe you want to watch it too; you only have until tomorrow before it's gone.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXyOii52YfgY21t7GSqOx8uIHY53w_pJaQrtGCU-JSAIzEPeK4z8zRthfAeFazosYnfufBsWFKiTUoloEXsjl8xEIpHciwMPzJKwkSGRPM7lAKBRTH1F8jLTIxFY4lBpnAB-TDUOC7iFGVT0_4gcR8MCVDaCw9nOVvyTI8vSwmJa856KfI-qE1Vg/s4032/PXL_20230607_013736779.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXyOii52YfgY21t7GSqOx8uIHY53w_pJaQrtGCU-JSAIzEPeK4z8zRthfAeFazosYnfufBsWFKiTUoloEXsjl8xEIpHciwMPzJKwkSGRPM7lAKBRTH1F8jLTIxFY4lBpnAB-TDUOC7iFGVT0_4gcR8MCVDaCw9nOVvyTI8vSwmJa856KfI-qE1Vg/w400-h300/PXL_20230607_013736779.MP.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That's it, folks! Thanks for your messages, your pics of your kids, your little everyday updates about what's happening in your worlds! It makes me happy to feel connected to you. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">~Chrissy</div></div>Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13719454135210195093noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910497165802997871.post-72982984041243567682023-06-07T21:08:00.003-04:002023-06-07T21:29:22.729-04:00Hair Today; Gone Tomorrow<p> Had a pretty good day in terms of symptoms and meds and all the medical stuff. Nothing too exciting to report there really (stay away nausea, my mouth feels like Elmer's glue, keep trying to eat/drink/pee/poop/other basic life functions). </p><p>Today's big news is in the Lifestyle and Fashion Department. My hair has not started falling out yet, but it seems likely that will begin over the next week. Since my mom and girls are going to the beach for a bit, I wanted to deal with the Hair Issue before they left. </p><p>Hunter has cut my hair since I was in college, probably? Definitely did my wedding hair, so we've been together 15-20+ years now. He agreed to come to the hospital after his last client and do a big giant chop chop ahead of the inevitable hair loss. I thought it would be good for the girls to get to see it. So, we had a hair party! </p><p>I know, enough with the narrative. You're here for the pics.</p><p><br /></p><p><b>BEFORE:</b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Il0lKhv6ScLV--STXCk32yNQJ9SQAA1STfnGdkkACwukT8Da1gdJIWx7NxM00UuCn2HDwYwpUNwjIYbm4mxV9IQ2dId4eSlkxpwTw3f78x26Uj0O6G7Q5p8y2eTj6mieKlZSEPcm6iKnBZY13xJJcClE0DNxJwxw_7FxvpFkGJS1SlK0WAWoYg/s3280/PXL_20230607_210359149.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3280" data-original-width="2464" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Il0lKhv6ScLV--STXCk32yNQJ9SQAA1STfnGdkkACwukT8Da1gdJIWx7NxM00UuCn2HDwYwpUNwjIYbm4mxV9IQ2dId4eSlkxpwTw3f78x26Uj0O6G7Q5p8y2eTj6mieKlZSEPcm6iKnBZY13xJJcClE0DNxJwxw_7FxvpFkGJS1SlK0WAWoYg/w240-h320/PXL_20230607_210359149.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie93rY0wjA5WxVMdnUIwyuEeLBL6noaOM0SRhtKIaUHuB3c93okfmrkEWy0r9lgZ-fxg3QoDyITESSJZb646Ankp3gj-dNV4xFFP0NhV94rf5ePaaD12miewJcVa9fUq_PfXf1QxhYxefwv2w22xwPKfcye3Mevonogb91ZEfZNow7lUnlGlAJgg/s4032/PXL_20230607_215048378.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie93rY0wjA5WxVMdnUIwyuEeLBL6noaOM0SRhtKIaUHuB3c93okfmrkEWy0r9lgZ-fxg3QoDyITESSJZb646Ankp3gj-dNV4xFFP0NhV94rf5ePaaD12miewJcVa9fUq_PfXf1QxhYxefwv2w22xwPKfcye3Mevonogb91ZEfZNow7lUnlGlAJgg/s320/PXL_20230607_215048378.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhpzTP3ic5xNoLWOVsClgTykCFXpn3bZ7_T7XCK4bQpvMYH53NW6VEzWxK2S-SqkYflmEKrN5Jf1nTAA3kAt7O-BEpPMUVjeOIYcFzZJRab3JXm6oTXt-tdrSoqcjKERSC1swB-1dQRPsybCSNWMZiwBD97fBI98SC5baXwlwz2I6tFKHBtc9j4Q/s4032/PXL_20230607_215146776.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhpzTP3ic5xNoLWOVsClgTykCFXpn3bZ7_T7XCK4bQpvMYH53NW6VEzWxK2S-SqkYflmEKrN5Jf1nTAA3kAt7O-BEpPMUVjeOIYcFzZJRab3JXm6oTXt-tdrSoqcjKERSC1swB-1dQRPsybCSNWMZiwBD97fBI98SC5baXwlwz2I6tFKHBtc9j4Q/w640-h480/PXL_20230607_215146776.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibtVSnDwDn80b6HvN2Bt417778cjvjbWdZlnlW6Sq4A-HM40WdmCj8tiPrUZhllGvKmDKR8sfet_ikqJBPnK-TTCIt76ihidfeyjPnW51WctlmP4CVwrqcwAr6c8ySUlo9YG1IbgCuMnypcP3rM3inNUZTsbnFPyVKr-sj6kAU34aBhWIbrMdTlA/s3280/PXL_20230607_215215079.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3280" data-original-width="2464" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibtVSnDwDn80b6HvN2Bt417778cjvjbWdZlnlW6Sq4A-HM40WdmCj8tiPrUZhllGvKmDKR8sfet_ikqJBPnK-TTCIt76ihidfeyjPnW51WctlmP4CVwrqcwAr6c8ySUlo9YG1IbgCuMnypcP3rM3inNUZTsbnFPyVKr-sj6kAU34aBhWIbrMdTlA/s320/PXL_20230607_215215079.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="240" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdODYcVwgAqOZM-L5Frdxo5xYAViQj9vNxvPZv5jyYEDbB0WNFR98KTGKu-MPO3-SYKZPa4SIXsfsIJzCeGW7O24UeF8bSIjMpiyNA8kknCOSchKAVMPeMTsOCf351s_jddAV5LXo8pbL_iOtChb0Orv8sssUrY_U8TWt40hpdSwy5xTerjz_Lwg/s3280/PXL_20230607_215234943.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2464" data-original-width="3280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdODYcVwgAqOZM-L5Frdxo5xYAViQj9vNxvPZv5jyYEDbB0WNFR98KTGKu-MPO3-SYKZPa4SIXsfsIJzCeGW7O24UeF8bSIjMpiyNA8kknCOSchKAVMPeMTsOCf351s_jddAV5LXo8pbL_iOtChb0Orv8sssUrY_U8TWt40hpdSwy5xTerjz_Lwg/s320/PXL_20230607_215234943.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><br /><br /><p><b>DURING: </b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjROY4e_fmguse6KuDW_R-B25DPonXRRYaEqMEkxUbp77rMR_OhMGibsxESPlXxA9e6_izEONsEhG5ZW4TAK9f4m1O3bNZQF_RXTb1BaH7Ukds8LOMzf7MuFDP8pfi8wBxbjcVhrDHJvoOiS5V0t2PfQ4AI2lhwdJXu9LZsWErPwhzLiOBdoLPgew/s4032/PXL_20230607_215424141.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjROY4e_fmguse6KuDW_R-B25DPonXRRYaEqMEkxUbp77rMR_OhMGibsxESPlXxA9e6_izEONsEhG5ZW4TAK9f4m1O3bNZQF_RXTb1BaH7Ukds8LOMzf7MuFDP8pfi8wBxbjcVhrDHJvoOiS5V0t2PfQ4AI2lhwdJXu9LZsWErPwhzLiOBdoLPgew/w480-h640/PXL_20230607_215424141.MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-wn_JzqK_y1XhiyA5VxY5TXOX9ZAWHyHs1ZcKJUCs0j8vYZiwiIgBVZh_fj96Q5RFs-qO8gePtxaopANuIcce6I5GEIYbWPWfmjmNEISwEmfq6BhgiQO62NRTaLDTaSIhtE9PAcbUS-EqU9MmDgHwPvkiB2E_r_IyfruR2SvftAnr4c-oQ8t4gA/s4032/PXL_20230607_215508727.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-wn_JzqK_y1XhiyA5VxY5TXOX9ZAWHyHs1ZcKJUCs0j8vYZiwiIgBVZh_fj96Q5RFs-qO8gePtxaopANuIcce6I5GEIYbWPWfmjmNEISwEmfq6BhgiQO62NRTaLDTaSIhtE9PAcbUS-EqU9MmDgHwPvkiB2E_r_IyfruR2SvftAnr4c-oQ8t4gA/s320/PXL_20230607_215508727.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPzAa093mflqhXMfqCkNw54U2ESqU2me4xnvvp5_SXnbS1lfBe29hB9BHsx7ZNwJO5DnPpE0MkDN9XI5IwjWozmDJBGF2AbntkB_NPE1SesFVh2UToBxIg1ChFW25fDM8YStjjnJTnN9EX1WyOZUTVLIu5Q6d3_xD3kmXES6qcu6h41NRtMH-Z5Q/s4032/PXL_20230607_220057526.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPzAa093mflqhXMfqCkNw54U2ESqU2me4xnvvp5_SXnbS1lfBe29hB9BHsx7ZNwJO5DnPpE0MkDN9XI5IwjWozmDJBGF2AbntkB_NPE1SesFVh2UToBxIg1ChFW25fDM8YStjjnJTnN9EX1WyOZUTVLIu5Q6d3_xD3kmXES6qcu6h41NRtMH-Z5Q/s320/PXL_20230607_220057526.MP.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlXH3UNTMx-TmtiqRzkEDgWwwcQo4YjN0KRAYQvYYjgWnnBqb5Bdeb5AojFUYGRx3C4mmAMqItICrPZ1uuXJ4agrUAE9O3LHjVG-yDv54-8DB3yLe8HOR3ak-s85dWG_VTyEoOMIrxXUBxJjHdZWNRdegdunxMHrJaJ6Clfzoz9Xe9KtYHnqDEIw/s4032/PXL_20230607_221356991.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlXH3UNTMx-TmtiqRzkEDgWwwcQo4YjN0KRAYQvYYjgWnnBqb5Bdeb5AojFUYGRx3C4mmAMqItICrPZ1uuXJ4agrUAE9O3LHjVG-yDv54-8DB3yLe8HOR3ak-s85dWG_VTyEoOMIrxXUBxJjHdZWNRdegdunxMHrJaJ6Clfzoz9Xe9KtYHnqDEIw/s320/PXL_20230607_221356991.MP.jpg" width="240" /></a></div></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>AFTER:</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2hRkDNWx6wFCzW6DYJVwO9hnw80VQlmzw1AL3T_0y3qFCiown_pRmXe7Hc0dSKh9unDeRjVh0Fe_heVruYR_sejkKwg6hVL09G_2gYA5hGGwjk9qf3R0b53y4b3D-mR24reTTF_7tSwtg3vIynX_MViic9YeHHVxXRUfp8VLWKOAail8d-Y3NdQ/s3280/PXL_20230608_003648841.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3280" data-original-width="2464" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2hRkDNWx6wFCzW6DYJVwO9hnw80VQlmzw1AL3T_0y3qFCiown_pRmXe7Hc0dSKh9unDeRjVh0Fe_heVruYR_sejkKwg6hVL09G_2gYA5hGGwjk9qf3R0b53y4b3D-mR24reTTF_7tSwtg3vIynX_MViic9YeHHVxXRUfp8VLWKOAail8d-Y3NdQ/s320/PXL_20230608_003648841.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI2MV-MReaysYFHtyuCpPvbpaysTRtkID5ncUHCKC-V6Wo78GXuv4-tmncKM2rWK3BQCIXjjILBEVISIuqjwFJpKa52PPVtxe3aP_0ckvrk9ErYdalLzZ-DlBMxv2VmPwT2dMVZFs9bMKdn-Nw-ym4TA1XWvuCHPbsXQhIFkcXoWMVjEDI6V726g/s4032/PXL_20230607_225413627.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI2MV-MReaysYFHtyuCpPvbpaysTRtkID5ncUHCKC-V6Wo78GXuv4-tmncKM2rWK3BQCIXjjILBEVISIuqjwFJpKa52PPVtxe3aP_0ckvrk9ErYdalLzZ-DlBMxv2VmPwT2dMVZFs9bMKdn-Nw-ym4TA1XWvuCHPbsXQhIFkcXoWMVjEDI6V726g/s320/PXL_20230607_225413627.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioDo-bmUL3K3GLc7oPGENAwpSnqleE1266178KaANGLqgxmFCnNkV3qq1gAFidx-nnY7APk1CqgfllT-hpIE36_YepDDKjJfAE5ZWlU79aIJ7SACWE-JemvJTv5tRL3q1uTKHZs1WONAYfsf3EQrSVpi_AziAQitQ8LKz8rxPfGyCFJhTXezJ5hQ/s4032/PXL_20230607_225359520.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioDo-bmUL3K3GLc7oPGENAwpSnqleE1266178KaANGLqgxmFCnNkV3qq1gAFidx-nnY7APk1CqgfllT-hpIE36_YepDDKjJfAE5ZWlU79aIJ7SACWE-JemvJTv5tRL3q1uTKHZs1WONAYfsf3EQrSVpi_AziAQitQ8LKz8rxPfGyCFJhTXezJ5hQ/s320/PXL_20230607_225359520.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Yay Hunter!!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4jjmyYk0X8bLvQLIb-q8TqUn_0AOrbhB1__0oQpnj6xJqBmQlBZe3au-ohvVH7_t_vPQ27B3kqVmKqz12IOZV1rMBVMhici0ig9PikMGCDCtxvPRA4QUlaIZM1ZS_7OhpDAFiHth9awyTgWfu_EZr1CpKAr3WqVnYRXVGjkN8cnCYS7q_ET1SYQ/s4032/PXL_20230607_224920933.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4jjmyYk0X8bLvQLIb-q8TqUn_0AOrbhB1__0oQpnj6xJqBmQlBZe3au-ohvVH7_t_vPQ27B3kqVmKqz12IOZV1rMBVMhici0ig9PikMGCDCtxvPRA4QUlaIZM1ZS_7OhpDAFiHth9awyTgWfu_EZr1CpKAr3WqVnYRXVGjkN8cnCYS7q_ET1SYQ/s320/PXL_20230607_224920933.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAVwZLg_MoL_9aDegj2gZXkyID6-ucFkVmewtVG8voB3UkHsgtR-IgSCyHc54FzT3w6wo2WlHd3llqURudki2GjgiCxN7sATfsxSv2YVoCjr7cHWaeqR1n0DqZHKxAR5ew4qD6IPia04yYKN4biq6Ha3brn9ABu609hul-PRS9pHioKzV7Fm2D7g/s4032/PXL_20230607_225449714.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAVwZLg_MoL_9aDegj2gZXkyID6-ucFkVmewtVG8voB3UkHsgtR-IgSCyHc54FzT3w6wo2WlHd3llqURudki2GjgiCxN7sATfsxSv2YVoCjr7cHWaeqR1n0DqZHKxAR5ew4qD6IPia04yYKN4biq6Ha3brn9ABu609hul-PRS9pHioKzV7Fm2D7g/s320/PXL_20230607_225449714.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5jovZ2pJ2ILscgTe69sNPgv1f0QuKQQsuJmt_Eaj8NvWlO45GxrGEkZRJBYGY6LRm-o_3h9MhibIMmpCHl8c96OhN2cPSTkjoxzhnwQvCd9JJFu7vKFASwJPk8lzPVbMkaSuF6vB4huZw6rDp12jAgjJY9gI_UNN0VWmkjioI1bSzNYQw3tlTbQ/s4032/PXL_20230607_225416729.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5jovZ2pJ2ILscgTe69sNPgv1f0QuKQQsuJmt_Eaj8NvWlO45GxrGEkZRJBYGY6LRm-o_3h9MhibIMmpCHl8c96OhN2cPSTkjoxzhnwQvCd9JJFu7vKFASwJPk8lzPVbMkaSuF6vB4huZw6rDp12jAgjJY9gI_UNN0VWmkjioI1bSzNYQw3tlTbQ/w480-h640/PXL_20230607_225416729.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN0ftl5XNhOug32-7Kop2xMKoV36zWL6unVDdwHzYXbnLzHYWx81I_lr5XgFgGp_VESLa0mEK7B_rbk3ggmCJwegeHQLKuwBuV-IvE1K7CgrYUDYLnBnEKnJEICATA3ich5F85DqKBRNo_6dpD5-nZAbTD4h041pQnnMPOeaFfyokf1xnfNfGjbw/s4032/PXL_20230607_225511256.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN0ftl5XNhOug32-7Kop2xMKoV36zWL6unVDdwHzYXbnLzHYWx81I_lr5XgFgGp_VESLa0mEK7B_rbk3ggmCJwegeHQLKuwBuV-IvE1K7CgrYUDYLnBnEKnJEICATA3ich5F85DqKBRNo_6dpD5-nZAbTD4h041pQnnMPOeaFfyokf1xnfNfGjbw/s320/PXL_20230607_225511256.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">PROM POSE!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">And a few bed selfies....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis12yFJewabtE2eUj_Yrx_on4HGSh3oPRxnNRTOqm8z30pZtNvog08Y7b-R_fNmETOonauc7H5vqHOTV5ghaWLQ9IWFc3rSx9eArSShZiLZtzlqo8cVlnLPyOqJ1bw038xd_IYDfgb9h6NT003bcCc2B-Q-OpzQQ8wuwU1V8jDOVbHgbzQcBjrmw/s3280/PXL_20230607_233153562.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3280" data-original-width="2464" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis12yFJewabtE2eUj_Yrx_on4HGSh3oPRxnNRTOqm8z30pZtNvog08Y7b-R_fNmETOonauc7H5vqHOTV5ghaWLQ9IWFc3rSx9eArSShZiLZtzlqo8cVlnLPyOqJ1bw038xd_IYDfgb9h6NT003bcCc2B-Q-OpzQQ8wuwU1V8jDOVbHgbzQcBjrmw/s320/PXL_20230607_233153562.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrG7IV0nz4Mx4MSV0NIazIHlb5KtyBy5qSYAIDXnV-S-_UiLF0vVsxuYhtUBCpCspUvnZ0h2enLDHjXTg6eYt1UamBmgh2EwlgEgJbQEik0oX8B2EmDZRxGtLF05x84711FG3h0v5usNGDWzAy28O04l0vN46lvtMIM1oggzuecGU4o4m6ziDUMA/s3280/PXL_20230608_001121009.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3280" data-original-width="2464" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrG7IV0nz4Mx4MSV0NIazIHlb5KtyBy5qSYAIDXnV-S-_UiLF0vVsxuYhtUBCpCspUvnZ0h2enLDHjXTg6eYt1UamBmgh2EwlgEgJbQEik0oX8B2EmDZRxGtLF05x84711FG3h0v5usNGDWzAy28O04l0vN46lvtMIM1oggzuecGU4o4m6ziDUMA/s320/PXL_20230608_001121009.MP.jpg" width="240" /></a></div></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMbaF6bZ3lK_tADbgjidoYIHsPBE5dUTIMWlaltdq2tJitiP832CN_vxbouPAFW7Gs8HWCaqSSCuqt6B752DT0aKNafBly0no_ZTDaw1dSP8eRJeAN3c6XwJImEGzA8zG5BzBiSGalDGdyzNv0Kma7VbtsEzB02EHGAvnbbI5g5hi-pwNriBXX9A/s3280/PXL_20230608_001127067.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3280" data-original-width="2464" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMbaF6bZ3lK_tADbgjidoYIHsPBE5dUTIMWlaltdq2tJitiP832CN_vxbouPAFW7Gs8HWCaqSSCuqt6B752DT0aKNafBly0no_ZTDaw1dSP8eRJeAN3c6XwJImEGzA8zG5BzBiSGalDGdyzNv0Kma7VbtsEzB02EHGAvnbbI5g5hi-pwNriBXX9A/w480-h640/PXL_20230608_001127067.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: left;">I don't care too much about the hair, but I can't say I don't care at all. I mean, I do have two x chromosomes. And my curls are kinda..... MY THING. So, even though I think Hunter did an amazing awesome job; I'll be honest, it feels a little weird. I've never ever had hair even remotely this short ever in my life ever forever. Right now I am not particularly interested in wigs.... I may play around a little with scarves or hats, but mostly I am just glad that when the mass shedding begins, it will only be a few inches of hair instead of my huge curly mop. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Hope you enjoyed tonight's edition of Lifestyle and Fashion! Till next time!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">~Chrissy</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><br /><br /><b><br /></b><p></p>Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13719454135210195093noreply@blogger.com30